


the taste, the touch, the way we love

by still_i_fall



Category: The Society (TV 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - YouTube, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Slowburn (in a sense), Still. This fic is here, Update: I am no longer a fan of BA, bon appetit test kitchen, very poorly defined relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2020-11-24 16:16:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20910509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/still_i_fall/pseuds/still_i_fall
Summary: Harry and Allie Make Donuts Part one: “I forgot the yeast!” | Bon AppetitBon Appetit • 2.5M view • 3 days ago





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this was originally a one-shot but then it got sorta out of hand. idk if any of you guys watch the bon appetit youtube videos but im lowkey obsessed with them. (in my head, harry is like the perfect mix of Brad, Andy, and Chris) 
> 
> the wonderful [ravens-world](https://ravens-world.tumblr.com/) read this over for me and has been such a help!
> 
> hope you enjoy!
> 
> (btw, the title and lyrics at the beginning are both from the song 'Love Song' by Lana Del Rey. i've been obsessed with her new album)

_lying on your chest, in my party dress_

* * *

There is a list of reasons as to why Allie falls in love with baking. Half of them have something to do with spite, and the other half have a lot to do with the idea of being surrounded by baked goods, but, honestly, does it really matter _why_ she falls in love with baking?

No. The answer is no. Obviously.

Anyway, Allie spends all of high school firmly in her sister’s shadow and attempting to forget about it through recipe development and French pastries. She spends all of senior year of high school attempting to perfect a macaron recipe (it’s worth it, by the way. Definitely worth it), and then impresses the entire floor of her dorm freshman year of college with chocolate chip cookies that are _just to die for._ She nearly bakes her way into a sorority. It’s a whole thing.

Cassandra is absolute shit at baking and a little bit bitter about it (this is where the _sptie_ element of her list of reasons comes into play) but still convinces her to move to France to study under some of the best pastry chefs in the world. She speaks in very broken French but that still impresses Cassandra when she comes to visit. Which is nice. Because of that whole _sister’s shadow_ thing.

And Allie can’t stop thinking about how nice it is to be able to say that she’s graduated from French culinary school while Cassandra still regularly mixes up salt and sugar. It makes her feel accomplished. She feels accomplished.

So, she’s not surprised when she lands her literal dream job working at the Bon Appetit test kitchen. She is excited, though. God she is so excited because she gets to spend her days coming up with recipes and baking things and just having _fun_ in a kitchen. It’s everything Allie’s ever dreamed of and more. 

Everything is great.

* * *

Okay. So maybe everything is not so great.

Because Allie is currently five minutes late to the first day of her dream job. _Fuck New York City traffic. Fuck the subway system. Fuck this stupid city’s stupid modes of transportation none of which are every on time._

And is this her fault? No. Yes. Sort of?

Actually, no. Nope. It’s her roommate’s fault for telling her that the subway system was calm and easy to handle.

Allie is not above telling her roommate that. “This is all your fault,” she tells Elle while run-walking to the One World Trade Center. The phone is pressed firmly against her ear, and if she wasn’t so nervous, she wouldn’t even be calling Elle right now; she just needs to hear a familiar voice.

“It’s not my fault that you don’t understand sarcasm,” Elle says, and Allie can just about hear the eye roll in her voice. It’s sorta comforting.

Allie sighs loudly, pulling open the door to the building. “Just… wish me luck?”

“Everything’s going to be—”

“Do you think I still get severance if they fire me on my first day of work?”

Elle lets out a little snort. “They won’t fire you for being a little late.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do. And I’m gonna hang up now, and you can tell me all about how they didn’t fire you later. Okay?”

“Okay,” she says, stepping into the elevator, her foot tapping nervously against the ground. The person next to her can’t stop staring, probably because the tapping is incredibly annoying, but Allie can’t find it in her to care. God, she wishes she had a watch so she could dramatically check the time. Maybe an off-brand Rolex?

Doesn’t matter. Nope, off-brand Rolex’s is not what she should be thinking about right now. She _should_ be thinking about how she’s going to have to re-apply for that Buzzfeed job after Bon Appetit fires her. That’s what she should be thinking about right now.

The second the elevator doors open to the 35th floor, she’s out like a cannon, running full speed towards the test kitchen. Multiple people are staring. Someone has the nerve to laugh. It hurts a little.

“I am so so so sorry,” she says the second she spots her supervisor, Grizz. He’s this tall dude, probably over six foot, and while he was interviewing her for the position, all she could think about was how painfully jealous she was of him because of his height. She dreamt of being six foot three all the way up until the last year of middle school. She never properly got over that dream.

There’s a guy standing next to Grizz—he’s unreasonably attractive, and Allie has to force herself not to do a double take—who is unabashedly laughing at her. Unabashedly. He’s not even trying _a little_ to cover it up. He’s laughing and shaking his head and laughing some more.

“The subway is just crazy, and my roommate lied to me and said it wasn’t and—” she continues, rambling on and on.

“You’re fine, Allie,” Grizz says, looking rather amused but having enough respect not to _blatantly laugh at her._ Allie lets out a rather loud sigh of relief, and the guy standing next to Grizz keeps laughing. Because he doesn’t have enough respect to stop. She doubts she has enough authority yet to glare at him, though. “We can start the tour now.”

The guy who won’t stop laughing moves to stand next to her. “I’m Harry Bingham,” he introduces, holding out his hand for her to shake. “The one who _wasn’t_ late.”

She wants to say _fuck you._ She does not say _fuck you._ Instead, she forces a smile onto her face and shakes his hand. “Allie Pressman.”

He smirks down at her because of _fucking_ course he’s one of those assholes who smirks all the time. “Is being late on your first day of work your thing, Pressman?”

Yep. She hates him.

Allie takes a deep breath because they haven’t even properly started the tour yet and Allie is already wondering if she should’ve taken that job with Tasty.

“Yep,” she deadpans, and his stupid smirk stays firmly in place, “it’s my thing.”

Grizz—who was watching the whole exchange with a grin on his face—laughs at the two of them. “Let’s introduce you guys to everyone.”

* * *

They don’t technically meet everyone. Still, they do meet a lot of people. It’s both incredibly overwhelming and incredibly exciting.

There’s Helena Wu who laughs at Allie’s story of getting lost in the New York underground and offers them little plates piled high with shepherd’s pie. Which is delicious, by the way. Potentially life changing. (Harry says something about how he’s never had better shepherd’s pie. Helena mentions a boyfriend and a favorite food, and Allie really should be paying better attention but… again, life changing. She’ll let Harry do all the talking if it means a moment to take in how good this pie is.)

And then Will LeClair who’s working with canned jalapeños and has the taste to glare at Harry when he jokingly tries to steal the last bite of shepherd’s pie off of Allie’s plate. It’s nice that _someone_ is on her side. Her side being intense dislike for Harry Bingham.

Becca Gelb, who’s in charge of all videography and photography for the test kitchen. She seems to tell it as it is, and Allie immediately loves her. (Becca and Harry have a conversation over film cameras because of course Harry is the type of pretentious who not only owns a film camera but also uses it on a regular basis. Allie wonders if he has an Instagram page for his photography. Probably.)

Gwen Patterson is working on a pasta recipe when they stop by her station. Allie and Harry team up against Grizz to stick around until she’s finished with a batch. Harry makes a stupid joke about a pasta maker, and Allie nearly snorts tomato sauce out of her nose which makes everyone laugh which is _probably_ a good thing. It’s a first impression that’s not negative, and Allie is all about not-negative first impressions when it comes to people who regularly make pasta.

They meet Gordie Moreno as he’s trying to put out a literal fire. Grizz says that he’s some kind of genius with an insane palette, and Allie believes it.

And Bean Akkad, a super sweet woman who’s making turkey as they stop by. As is the running theme of the day, Allie likes just about anyone who gives her food, so when Bean gives her and Harry both tiny plates of literal perfect turkey, Allie is immediately won over. (She attempts to steal a bite off of Harry’s plate, and he bats her hand away with a grin—not a smirk—and her heart goes loud in her chest, but she’s ignoring that because it’s just nerves, right? Right. _Right._)

There are a bunch of other people whose name’s Harry and Allie never get. Or do get but don’t remember. During the tour of the kitchen, a lot of people just sort of wave in their direction as the walk by, too many people to warrant proper introductions every time. Harry, somehow, still manages to charm those people too. It seems a lot like that’s just his thing. 

Still, Allie only finds her mind drifting to that job at Tasty once, and it’s to wonder what type of snacks Buzzfeed stocks their breakrooms with.

The first person, and the most notable person Allie meets on that first day at the Bon Appetit test kitchen is Harry Bingham. He’s infuriatingly charming and funny and hot. Has she mentioned yet that he’s hot? Because he’s really hot. It’s horrible. Chances are, he’ll be the one she works with the most because of the fact that they’re starting on the same day and were hired to do pretty much the same things. She’s not excited to work with him, but she’s not _not_ excited either. She’s neutral. She’s Switzerland.

* * *

“Elle, he’s _too_ funny for me to actually hate him. I hate it. It’s not fair,” Allie whines, slouching into the couch and making a face at the TV. _Gilmore Girls_ is playing because it’s her comfort show, the show she watches when she doesn’t want to feel like an adult with adult responsibilities. First days of work always make her feel like an adult.

Elle rolls her eyes. “And let me guess, he’s hot too.”

“I brought up that he’s hot _once_, okay. It’s a necessary detail.”

“You actually brought it up _three_ times, and no, it is not a necessary detail, though you should be thankful that he’s not ugly. You’re gonna be working pretty closely with this guy, right?”

“Yes,” she grumbles. “And if he has any say, I’ll be stuck being known as the girl who was late to her first day of work for the rest of my time at Bon Appetit.”

“You need to stop complaining about this,” Elle commands, reaching for the remote to turn the volume up on the TV. “Just wallow and watch _Gilmore Girls_ like you usually do. By next week no one will even remember that you were late on your first day.”

Allie sinks even further into the couch. “Harry will remember,” she mumbles, and Elle throws a pillow at her.

* * *

**Six Months Later**

* * *

**Harry and Allie Make Donuts Part One: “I forgot the yeast!” | Bon Appetit**

_Bon Appetit • 2.5 M views • 3 days ago_

They both look like they’re already having too much fun, and the video has only barely begun.

Harry’s waving around the whisk attachment for the stand mixer, a clump of dough looking as though it’s about to fall on the ground. Allie’s reaching for his arm to get him to stop, but it looks like she’s barely trying. Neither of them seems to be able to stop laughing.

“You are such a mess,” she says, shaking her head back and forth, first at him and than at the camera. Harry’s fully angled towards her, like they aren’t being filmed, like it’s just the two of them working late on a recipe.

“You’re mean to me.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.” He finally turns to face the camera. “Allie likes to tease me like a _bully_, and no one in the test kitchen ever stands up for me,” he tells them, lowering his voice a little like he’s telling the audience a secret. Behind the camera, someone—probably Becca—laughs.

Allie thinks it’s funny too, evidenced by the grin appearing on her face. “I make the test kitchen these donuts once a month, and suddenly everyone is always on my side. I wouldn’t say I bought my power, but it would be wrong of me not to at least mention bribery.”

Harry makes a face, and Allie rolls her eyes, nudging him in the side with her elbow. That’s his cue to keep talking. “So, today we’re making Allie’s famous donut recipe. Because Allie is a loser who lost a bet and—”

“Wait,” Becca calls out from behind the camera, “tell everyone about the bet.”

Allie snorts, and Harry looks down at her way too endearingly for someone who is just supposed to be her totally platonic co-worker. “Promise Grizz won’t see this?” she asks. Someone must nod because she continues. “It was over how many times Grizz would mention his new herb garden in one day.”

“He was filming that day too,” Harry adds. “So I guessed seventeen times—”

“Which is such a random number.”

“And Allie guessed five times. Because she just doesn’t know Grizz as well as I do.”

Allie scoffs. “That’s not true.”

“Anyway,” Harry says, “I won the bet so Allie has to show me how to make her ultra-secret donut recipe.”

“Only it’s not ultra-secret,” she says, laughing a little.

“Excuse me? You told me it was a family recipe.”

Allie turns away from the camera and stares up at him, her eyebrows just barley scrunched together, a smile still incredibly bright on her face. “Family recipe does not mean ultra secret.”

“Yes it—”

“Plus,” she interrupts, “even if the recipe was _ultra-secret,_ it’s not anymore since it’s appearing in this month’s issue of Bon Appetit magazine.”

Harry swivels to fully face her, a little too suddenly to be scripted, catching her momentarily off guard. She reaches for his arm to steady herself. He doesn’t seem to notice or care. “Wait, you got the recipe in the magazine and didn’t tell me?” he asks, sounding much too hurt.

Allie lets out a soft snort, letting go of his arm and shaking her head at the camera. “This idiot went to Harvard.”

> **StreamLover8/23** 1 day ago

> I don’t even sorta care about the donut recipe. I only watch this videos for these two idiots (and Grizz and Bean and Will and everyone else in this stupid test kitchen)

> **View 2 replies v**

> **Noodle Doodle** 7 hours ago

> I would bet real money (not just an “ultra-secret donut recipe”) that Harry brings up Harvard Constantly.

> **View 3 replies v**

> **You’reAStar** 22 hours ago 

> Like if you think Harry and Allie should have their own channel 

> **View 12 replies v**

* * *

It takes Harry and Allie three months to develop past co-workers-with-childish-rivalry. Really. _Three Months_. (After Harry’s first viral video, Allie refuses to talk to him for a week because he brings it up at any and all possible moments. She asks Elle—only semi-jokingly—if there’s a way to block people in real life. Though, when Allie passes in Instagram followers, he makes it his life mission to pass her. She’d be lying to say that feels kind of good.)

After those three months, it takes them an additional two to become real, proper friends. In the past six months they’ve been to each other’s homes (to test recipes, okay? No funny business. At all. They are _just_ friends), and text each other chef memes like complete nerds. In the past six months, Harry’s become her best friend at BA. She’s also relatively sure that she’s his.

So, when Harry decides to throw some random dinner party (possibly to celebrate the fact that he’s made it half a year without being fired? Which is, truthfully, probably not something to be celebrated, but he’ll make any excuse to throw a party), Allie is, of course, invited. Honestly, she probably knows about this stupid party before he’s even decided to throw it. She also knows exactly what to bring.

A plate of her literal perfect chocolate chip cookies. The ones Elle says she would _literally kill for_ and Harry has thus far refused to try just to spite her. (This idiot thinks his cookies are the best and she really _really_ wants to prove him wrong.)

That urge to prove him wrong is, quite possibly, the only thing that gets her up the _five_ flights of stairs it takes to get to his roof. She’s not about to admit to anyone that it’s the only cardio she’s done all week. Possibly all month. Which is embarrassing seeing as she pays an absurd amount for a gym membership.

“Nice to see you, Pressman,” he says when she arrives, meeting her by the door to the roof and therefor giving her no moment to catch her breath. He’s smiling like he just _knows_ she struggled up those five stupid flights of stairs. Which he probably does.

“I brought you cookies,” she says, holding out the saranwrap covered plate for him to take.

He takes the plate and starts toward a table covered in food, motioning for her to follow. “You thought I couldn’t cook for myself?” he teases, and she rolls her eyes.

“Obviously. Bon Appetit don’t need actual chefs, just pretty faces.”

He grins at her, all light and easy, and she finds herself grinning back. She just can’t help it. “Glad to hear you think I have a pretty face, Pressman.” God, she hates how much she likes it when he calls her Pressman. She likes it a lot. She hates that a lot.

She’s still grinning. She needs to stop. “Well,” she finally says, after maintain silent eye contact with Harry for probably multiple moments too long, “I’m going to go say hi to some people. Tell me what you think about the cookies and be prepared for them to be much better than yours. Like, infinitely better than yours. Like, I just want to make sure that you won’t go into shock or something; that’s how amazing these cookies are.” Yep. She can tease too. She can also smile with her eyes and laugh and make stupid jokes. Yep.

“Don’t worry,” he says, and his eyes are still _so_ bright, “I’ll let you know before I eat one of your garbage cookies.”

“Promise?” she asks, and he nods mock-seriously. She scrunches up her face at him, a bit like she’s a child, and he makes a face at her back because he also acts like a child. For a moment, she wonders how long they’ll stay like that, only, then, she’s pulled away by Helena and being told that she _really needs to try the ricotta dumplings._

She turns back just once before allowing Helena to pull her away. Harry’s still smiling at her. Allie’s heart traitorously skips a beat. She still smiles back.

* * *

She finds Will, her second best friend at BA (as much as she hates to admit it, Harry is most definitely her best friend at BA. Sometimes she wishes she could just go a little easier on herself and be best friends with Will. And, other times…), on the corner of the roof with a plate half-full of food.

“Hey,” she calls out to him, grabbing herself a drink as she walks over. Harry’s brought champagne glasses up from his apartment. Allie can’t help laughing a little about it.

Will shoots her a smile, a sweet one that she can’t help but return. (It doesn’t make her heart stop. She wishes it had). “Hey, Allie.”

“Have you tried one of my chocolate chip cookies yet? I’m trying to get our co-workers to all agree that mine are better than Harry’s.”

Will lets out a soft chuckle (he _chuckles_, this boy chuckles. Allie wishes she was swooning right now. In a perfect world, she would be swooning right now. “Do I get to throw my chocolate chip cookies into the ring? I include white chocolate and everything.”

If it was anyone but Will—sweet, sweet Will—she would’ve made a terrible face at just the idea of ruining a perfectly good chocolate chip cookie with white chocolate. If it was Harry who committed this atrocity, she would be teasing him mercilessly right now. She’s not about to tease Will, though. Because he’s Will, and she just doesn’t have it in her.

She pretends to think while sipping her drink out of that stupid champagne glass. “No, I don’t think so. This is just between Harry and me. We might turn it into a video or something.”

Will raises an eyebrow. “Just between you and Harry?” he echoes.

She rolls her eyes. “Well, when you say it like that… sure, it sounds sort of weird. We’re just trying to settle an argument over who’s a better cook.” Out of the corner of her eye, she spots Harry holding up a cookie and waving at her from where the food is. “I’ll be right back. You’ll vote for my cookie, right?”

Will smiles. “Of course.”

She’s gone before he finishes speaking, on a collision course with the one and only Harry Bingham who’s grinning at her so wide and so bright that she wonders if it hurts. But her smile has turned into a grin too, and she bets it’s just as wide and just as bright as his. And it doesn’t hurt. She kind of loves it.

“My chocolate chip cookie is better, right Bingham?”

He scrunches his face up. “I don’t think so.”

“Well I—” Wait. She swears she just felt a raindrop land on her face. She doesn’t bother finishing her sentence. “Is it raining?”

Harry suddenly looks a lot less casual. “It shouldn’t be,” he says, but the rain is really starting to come down now, and people are beginning to notice. “We can move the food into my apartment,” he says to the group, a little frantically. A few people grab dishes off the edge of the table but most everyone just immediately moves to the stairwell, leaving Harry and Allie alone in the rain with a nearly full table of food.

She’s laughing, and the rain is falling down even harder now, and she has to push her hair out of her face and wipe the water from her eyes. “We should probably get all of this inside,” she says, moving to cover the food as best she can. Most of it is already covered anyway, so it’s not all becoming completely water-logged, but, at this rate, she doubts the party will come back outside anyway.

He’s laughing too, shaking water out of his hair as he grabs a tray of… something… and runs to the stairwell. She follows, her vision slightly blurring with all the water in her eyes, her smile still firmly in place.

“You owe me,” she shouts at him as she sets her dish on the top step and runs back to the food table for another. She worries for a moment about those champagne glasses, only Harry’s still laughing, his laugh only becoming louder, really.

His laugh is loud and bright, and her heart is still fluttering in her chest. “Maybe I’ll give you my chocolate chip cookie recipe.”

She almost falls into him as they slide down the stairs, but they both keep laughing, his arms wrapping around her, steadying her. She hates how comfortable she feels. She hates the way he’s staring at her, like the world has just stopped—ended—and they’re the only two left.

She tries to breathe. She sits in his arms for a moment too long, before pulling away and stepping into his apartment. She waits for Harry to complain about her getting water everywhere. It doesn’t happen. 

In the end, she’s sitting with him in his apartment, both of them wrapped in big, fluffy towels as Grizz tells them that they’ll probably both be out with colds all of next week. Harry says something about how a cold has never stopped him before, and Allie rolls her eyes and brings up that time they both got sick at the same time and he threw a temper tantrum when she took the last cough drop. (“That was different, Pressman.” “No it wasn’t.”)

Will and his stupid white-chocolate chocolate chip cookies don’t cross her mind again that night. Actually, she’s pretty sure he left when it started raining. And she’s pretty sure she didn’t care.

No. She’s actually certain she didn’t care.

* * *

Here’s how Allie and Harry became friends (in chronological order).

First. She runs into him on the subway going into their second day of work. Like, she literally runs into him. It’s kind of embarrassing, actually. Or very embarrassing.

“God, I am so—Harry?” she says. This is just her luck, running into that stupid, unreasonably handsome co-worker who is sort of an ass but also somehow looks way too hot given the fact that it is incredibly early (she’s not about to be late again) and they are on the subway.

He sighs very dramatically. She stifles a yawn. “Don’t tell me you live around here, Pressman.”

Yeah. It is way too early for this. “I wish I could.”

They walk from the subway station to the One World Trade Center together. It’s mostly in silence, and it’s a little awkward, but that doesn’t really feel like it matters.

And although they both refuse to say it, having a travel buddy isn’t bad. It’s actually kind of nice, so, whenever they spot one another, they make a point to stand together. Sometimes they’ll talk (about literally anything). Twice, Harry’s moved closer to her if he notices some guy looking at her funny. It’s comforting.

Second. Their workstations are right next to each other. He’s always _right there_ making food that looks and smells really good. He has the station behind her. While filming her first ever video with Bon Appetit, he kept sneaking back to his station to grab things and make faces at the camera. Allie was annoyed, but the viewers loved it, so the people behind the camera kept letting Harry work at his station while Allie’s filming. Him making faces at the camera while she talks through a recipe just feels like a given at this point.

She almost doesn’t mind it. No, she doesn’t mind it at all. Because sometimes Allie doesn’t feel like she could avoid Harry even if she wanted too, and, as the days turn to weeks, she finds herself not wanting to more and more.

Third. They get stuck workshopping recipes together. Sometimes—most of the time, actually—this just involves the two of them and a shared Google Doc and desks right next to one another and an absurd amount of time spent together. And then, other times, it involves even more time spent together in the form of outside of work interaction.

Because of this, Harry Bingham is the first person at BA to see her apartment.

Her laptop is open and sitting on the couch. An old _Strokes_ song is playing because it makes her feel like a real New Yorker. All of the ingredients for the ginger chocolate cake they’re working on are on the counter. Still, Harry’s searching through her fridge.

“Your fridge is a mess,” he comments, pushing some things around inside. He’s probably organizing. Or at least snooping. Maybe a little bit of both.

“I bet your fridge is a mess too.”

“Is not.”

“Is too.”

From the couch, she hears Elle sigh. She didn’t even know Elle was home, that was how wrapped up she was mentally preparing for Harry’s visit.

“I’m guessing you’re Harry Bingham,” Elle says, not even bothering to stand up. Allie doesn’t think she’s ever loved Elle more.

Harry pulls his head out of the fridge. He’s standing a step too close to Allie now. She doesn’t move away. “The one and only,” he says. God, why is she laughing? That wasn’t funny. He’s not funny. Nope. Not even a little.

“Well, it’s very nice to meet you, but if you two could stop arguing or flirting or whatever the fuck you’re doing, that would be much appreciated.”

“We’re not flirting,” Allie says, and Harry scoffs. 

“Speak for yourself, Pressman.”

Allie blushes a pale pink and throws her elbow into his side. Elle lets out a loud laugh.

Still, she’s the first one to see his apartment too. She’s pretty sure he cleans his fridge before she shows up, though. That first time she’s there, he tricks her into staying for dinner. They make pizzas, and Harry burns the tip of his finger on something, and it scares her how worried about him she is in that instant before she knows it’s just a minor burn.

“I’m going to tell everyone at work that you burned me,” he says to her, and that makes her laugh and calms her down and is exactly what she needed. He probably knew that. That scares her too.

At some point, Allie finds herself following Harry to his place with very little (if any) work to do and staying long, long after the work is done. It’s weird how quickly she gets used to it, how quickly she finds out where he keeps the good plates, and how he likes to load his dishwasher (because he has a fucking dishwasher in New York City. _That’s_ how much he pays for his apartment), and his favorite flavor of LaCroix (Pamplemousses. Obviously). 

When she thinks about it, she realizes that she gets used to him all of the sudden and all at once. One day, him being next to her is just… _normal._ And she’s pretty sure she likes that.

No, she’s positive she likes that.

* * *

She doesn’t mean to have sex with Harry Bingham. It’s just… he kisses her while she’s helping him do the dishes after his stupid dinner party (the one with the rain that she pretty single handedly saved), and then, after that, one thing leads to another, and, yeah. She has sex with Harry Bingham.

It isn’t bad sex. Honestly, it’s good sex. It’s really good sex. 

Still… “We’re still friends, right?” she asks, because he’s her best friend at BA—her best friend that’s not Elle—and right now she’s laying in his bed, and he’s playing with her hair, and all of this feels decidedly _not_ like something two just friends would be doing.

Harry turns to her looking so incredibly fond. “Of course,” he says, a bit like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. He’s still playing with her hair. She likes it.

“Okay. Just making sure.”

And she mostly doesn’t mean to have sex with Harry Bingham the second time either.

Here’s how it happen: A week later, a week after falling asleep and waking up in his bed and both of them acting like it didn’t happen, she comes back to his place to help him recipe test for some video he’s working on, a competition video with Will involving nachos. (“We’ll just have to keep your involvement with this a secret,” he’d told her, and she’d turned pink because for a second she’d thought that they were talking about… that. And not nachos.)

Anyway, Harry says something about how the kitchen is really warm (which it totally is), and she jokes that he should take his shirt off (not entirely a joke), and then he does because why not, and then she does too just to keep things balanced and also because why not, and then one thing leads to another and suddenly his fire alarm is going off while he’s _inside her_ because there’s a baking dish full of nachos burning in the oven.

The third time she has sex with Harry Bingham is entirely not an accident and happens three days after the nacho incident. She gets him in her apartment under the guise of taste-testing cookies (which does happen, by the way), and they make the same mistake all over again only with toffee chunk cookies which _absolutely ruins_ her favorite sheet tray.

Harry promises to buy her another sheet tray in exchange for dinner, and even though that makes no sense whatsoever, Allie still agrees. By the end of the month, they’re spending entire days off doing stuff very much _not_ related to work, like seeing movies and going out to dinner and making out in the backseat of cabs while driving back from some fancy restaurant.

Only, the thing is, they’re not in a relationship. They’re just friends. Friends with benefits. _Friends with benefits._

Oh. _Shit._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yet, when he invites her to his ex-girlfriends destination wedding, she doesn’t think twice before saying yes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took so long! I've had most of it finished since before i even posted the first chapter of this fic, but the last bit took me forever. 
> 
> hope you enjoy! i'm having so much fun writing this! 
> 
> (lyrics at the beginning of the chapter from lana del rey's song 'love song')

_ Touch me anywhere ‘cause I’m your baby _

  
  


* * *

**Allie Makes a Chocolate Souffle | From the Test Kitchen | Bon Appetit **

_ Bon Appetit  _ _ • 1.2M view • 5 days ago _

  
  


“Harry likes to stand in the back and judge me like he can do all of this better,” she pauses to turn around and glare at him. He makes a face back. “He can’t, by the way, no matter what he tells you.”

“Yes I can,” Harry shouts back. He’s still standing at his station. The camera slowly zooms in on him. He grins at it. “I went to Harvard.”

“I swear to god, Harry, if you bring that up one more time…”

  
  


> **LarryThe Platypus** 2 days ago
> 
> If all  _ Bon Appetit was _ Harry and Allie flirting, I’d be happy.
> 
> **View 2 replies v**
> 
>   
  

> 
> **Harry Bingham** 🗸 5 days ago
> 
> Allie made me eat the ugly souffle. 
> 
> **View 154 replies v**
> 
>   
  

> 
> **Oofsies** 3 days ago
> 
> I wish Harvard offered classes on baking chocolate souffles (and that Allie taught them, just to spite Harry).
> 
> **View 9 replies v**

  
  


* * *

After the first time waking up beside him in his bed, a warm arm wrapped around her and light peeking through the blinds, she wonders if this is how their friendship ends, three months in with sex after a dinner party. 

He makes her coffee that morning. 

“You want any vanilla syrup?” he asks, mixing some into his own. 

She makes a face. “No thanks.” (but adds his coffee order to the list of things she now knows about him, right next to a strange love for plaid throw blankets, and a hatred of fig bars.)

Neither mention the night before. They ride the subway into work, pressed close together in the seats, knees touching and hands brushing. 

It’s normal.

Harry films a video for ricotta dumplings, Allie’s the first person to taste test, everything’s fine. 

Falling asleep that night (in her own bed), she doesn’t wonder if that is how it ends for them. (She does wonder if that’s how it starts, though. Them at his apartment making out while doing the dishes. Them in his bed, light peeking through the blinds. Them in his bathroom, morning routines side by side. Maybe she shouldn’t wonder that, but she does.)

  
  


* * *

In the mornings, they leave just a little earlier and pick up coffee and breakfast before work. With Harry, things always become routine so quickly; her staying over at his apartment, how they do the dishes, the ride to work. It’s only new for a second when she’s with him, and then it’s normal.

It’s so normal that people start to notice that it’s normal. They start asking stupid questions, and seeing little things.

“Nah, Allie likes blueberry muffins. Poppyseeds give her a headache,” Harry says once in a video. People notice that.

“Harry drinks his coffee black like some sort of sociopath,” she says, standing right next to him.

He bumps her with his elbow (people notice that). “If you can’t handle plain coffee, then you don’t deserve the caffeine.”

“You add a shot of vanilla!” People notice that.

But the internet has always been a little bit weird and scary to Allie. She didn’t take the job at  _ Bon Appetit _ to make Youtube videos, she took it because she loves to cook, because she loves food. All the people saying things, telling her that  _ her and Harry would be soooo cute together _ don’t really matter. 

  
  


* * *

Okay, so maybe they matter a little. 

“This comment literally says that we’re having sex,” she says, staring at it and making a face.

Harry rolls his eyes. “We are having sex.”

“Well they don’t need to know that.”

Harry hands her a bowl of the miso soup he made. She continues talking. “This is all your fault for flirting with me in that cooking skills video.”

They move to sit at the counter, stools scooted so close that their knees are pressed together; Allie doesn’t mind. “It’s not like you didn’t flirt back,” he says, blowing on a spoonful of soup. 

She scrunches up her face and he laughs at her. “Still your fault.”

  
  


* * *

**Pastry Chef Makes Snickers | Gourmet Makes | Bon Appetit**

_ Bon Appetit  _ _ • 3.5M view • 2 days ago _

  
  


“Fun fact,” Allie says, looking up from the bowl of not tempered chocolate in front of her and frowning. “But I guess I’m really bad at tempering chocolate. Who knew?”

In the background, Harry grins. “I knew,” he calls out. She swivels around to glare at him. The camera zooms in on the two of them. 

“Don’t you have anything better to do?”

“Then watch you fail at tempering chocolate? Nope.” He walks towards her station. “Tempering chocolate is easy, by the way.”

Allie looks a little like she’s about to kill him. From behind the camera, Becca snorts. “If it’s so easy, Bingham, why don’t you do it?”

He shrugs. “Okay, sure.”

Allie watches him the entire time, eyes narrowed. He keeps shooting her little grins, and you can tell Allie is trying so hard not to smile back. Harry, of course (he went to Harvard; he’s pretty much perfect), gets it right the first try. Allie looks a little like she’s going to kill him.

“Told you. Easy.”

Allie leaves the frame. 

“So I guess this is my show now, seeing as I’m the only one who can accomplish anything around here.”

Off in the distance, Allie can be heard saying “Fuck you.”

Gourmet Makes is pretty much just the Allie and Harry show. (Absolutely no one is upset about that.)

  
  


> **PumpkinSpiceDonuts** 2 days ago
> 
> Allie when Harry tempered chocolate was a complete mood.
> 
> **View 9 replies v**
> 
>   
  

> 
> **imightfailapush ** 1 day ago
> 
> *Pastry Chefs*
> 
> **View 3 replies v**
> 
>   
  

> 
> **weain’tgottaridesolo ** 5 hours ago
> 
> I’d kill for an entire video of Harry watching Allie cook.
> 
> ** pancakeseason ** 12 hours ago
> 
> Lol, you mean literally every one of Allie’s recipe videos. That boy is whipped.

  
  


* * *

**Harry Makes Bucatini | From the Test Kitchen | Bon Appetit**

_ Bon Appetit  _ _ • 1.2M view • 4 days ago _

  
  


“Allie hates this type of noodle because they’re harder to,” he takes a deep breath before saying the next word, as though it’s below him. “Slurp.”

Allie’s standing behind him at a nearby work station. She’s trying to temper chocolate. Trying being the key word. “Says the guy who got sauce down his shirt the last time he ate bucatini.”

Harry’s attention is turned from the camera to Allie. “Stop trying to ruin my recipe, Pressman.”

“Stop trying to force me to eat your stupid pasta, Bingham.”

Harry turns back towards the camera. “This is why we are not in a relationship.”

Allie can be heard sniggering in the background. Harry grins.

  
  


* * *

From what Harry's told her, Kelly, his ex-girlfriend, is pretty cool. Maybe, if they weren't  _ just friends _ , she'd be a little worried. But they are just friends. And Kelly's engaged. (To Becca, which is kind of insane to her because she sees Becca at least once a week and had not heard about this. Maybe Allie's a little oblivious. Or a lot. Probably a lot. She didn’t know that Becca had a daughter until about a month into summer when the same little girl had been at the test kitchen everyday.)

"He wants me to go to his ex-girlfriend's wedding with him," Allie says to Elle. They're eating ice cream on the couch. Organic ice cream because she works at  _ Bon Appetit _ and can't be seen with Dreyers. 

Elle snorts. "Course he did," she pauses to take a bite of her ice cream, some crazy mix of a million flavors. Allie's eating mint chocolate chip and trying to not think about how it's also Harry's favorite flavor. "You gonna go with him?"

"I mean, probably." Elle rolls her eyes. Allie continues. "It's Becca's wedding too; Eden’s the flower girl. I was going to go anyway, so I might as well save on the room." 

"Ooh, they were roommates."

Allie rolls her eyes. "I wish you could make it."

"Why? So I could get stuck outside the room while you two have sex?"

"It was one time!

"Well, you two are gonna have lots of fun on whatever small Caribbean island they're having the wedding on, and I'll be here living it up at work." 

Sometimes, when Allie doesn’t think, she almost believes that her and Harry are in some sort of relationship. People in a relationship go to old friends weddings together. People in a relationship spend the night at each other's places, and go out to dinner, and miss the other when they’re apart. Sometimes, she wonders when all of this will end, when Harry’ll meet someone new, someone who he’s willing to settle down with; when she’ll meet someone new, someone she’s willing to commit to. She can’t see the end, not even when she squints at the distance, when she tries to imagine her future, but it doesn’t seem right to assume that Harry will always be there.

Yet, when he invites her to his ex-girlfriends destination wedding, she doesn’t think twice before saying yes.

* * *

They take a cab to the airport together.

“I couldn’t find my neck pillow,” Allie complains. 

Harry squints at her (she thinks. He has this stupid pair of sunglasses on. It’s seven in the morning; she assumes he’s hungover, though that makes no sense seeing as she spent last night with him). “You own a neck pillow?”

She gapes at him. “You, Harry Bingham, the guy who has two toasters in case one randomly breaks, do not own a neck pillow. I don’t believe that.”

He shrugs. “You were just gonna be my neck pillow, Pressman.”

“That was my plan too you asshole.”

He’s laughing at her in the back of the cab. She doesn’t even notice that he’s holding her hand until he squeezes it before letting go as they exit the car. She wonders when her hand in his started to feel so incredibly normal. 

They hold hands in the airport too, rollie bags trailing behind them as they try to find a neck pillow under twenty dollars (“I have an airport budget, Harry, so you’re gonna have to buy it.” “I’m not buying you a neck pillow so you can spend twenty dollars on overpriced snacks.” “And to think I was going to share my trail mix with you.”). 

Her head rests on his shoulder during the flight. They share a pair of earbuds, and play an in-flight movie in the background as they sleep. Her hand is in his. He’ll squeeze it every once in a while; he seems to like to do that. Sometimes, he’ll rub his thumb against her wrist. It makes her think that he’s reminding her he’s there, or maybe he's reminding himself.

  
  


* * *

They get to Hawaii late at night. The air is still warm, and, at least near the airport, the street lights are bright and comforting. She feels like shit from the flight, over twelve hours of upright sleeping and stale air, but the freshness of Hawaii, the ocean breeze and the quiet, is nice.

At the hotel, they check into a room with only one bed. Neither say anything because there isn’t anything to say. Allie can’t imagine not sleeping next to him, at least not here. She wonders, only fleetingly though, what that exactly means. (She doesn’t come up with an answer.)

By now, she knows that Harry likes to sleep close to her, that he likes constant contact. She’s used to the feeling of his breath on her skin, of his arm wrapped around her. She even likes it. He’s probably used to her light snoring, to her head against his chest, and how her feet are always just a little cold. 

It’s been six months since they slept together after his dinner party. He’s her best friend. (She’s never had a best friend who she has sex with regularly, a best friend who takes her to his ex’s wedding, a best friend who holds her hand in the back of taxis and flirts with her constantly. She likes it, though, likes how familiar it’s becoming.  _ She likes him _ .)

  
  


* * *

Just before noon, on their first day there, Allie meets Harry’s ex. They’re on the beach. Allie has a swimsuit on under her dress and she plans on swimming in the ocean the first chance she gets. Harry keeps taking pictures of everything on his phone Sometimes, he’ll make her stop and smile for them, but most of the time, it’s candid stuff, or pictures of everything around them. 

“So you’re Allie,” Kelly says with a smile. Kelly, to Allie at least, seems like the type of person who smiles a lot. Becca is too, once you get to know her. In her head, Allie makes a list of all the reasons why they work together; that smiling bit’s the first reason. 

“The one and only.”

“Nice to meet you. Harry’s told me so much about you. Becca too.”

Allie smiles back, mirrors Kelly’s features and glances over to Harry. He’s right beside her. She’s not at all surprised. (She doesn’t think once about the implications of that. She only thinks of his arm around her, and the smell of the ocean.) “Good things I hope.”

Harry laughs from beside her. “Nah, Pressman, all bad things, like how you were late to your first day of work because you couldn’t figure out the subway system.”

“Shut up, Harry.” She nudges him with her elbow. He grins even wider. 

“Kelly’s opinion doesn’t matter much though seeing as she works for,” Harry shudders. “ _ Tasty _ .”

And now Kelly’s laughing too, glancing, just once, at Harry’s arm wrapped around Allie’s shoulder an the way Allie leans into it. “Fuck you, Harry.”

Someone shouts for Kelly, and she turns her attention away from Harry and Allie. “I’ll talk to you guys later, yeah? It was great finally meeting you, Allie!”

“It was great meeting you too, Kelly!” 

Harry’s got a hold on her arm, pulling her towards the beach, towards sand and crashing waves and a light breeze, as Kelly walks away from them.

“Let’s swim,” he says, like he’s a kid who’s never seen the ocean before. She rolls her eyes. 

“You’re just trying to get me to strip.”

“Well obviously.” 

She grins at him, and suddenly there they are, running towards the ocean. Somewhere along the way, Allie loses her dress, and Harry, his shirt. Someone will take pictures of the two of them, maybe Becca, probably Grizz. They get sent to Harry later. He posts them on his instagram. When she sees them, she smiles so wide it hurts. 

(There’s saltwater in her eyes, hair, and mouth. Harry’s leaning back in it, floating. She is too. The water is blue, and warm, and the sky is clear. Sometimes his hand will grab hers just to pull her closer. When she thinks of calm, of happiness, and vacation, she’ll think of this moment.)

  
  


* * *

“How’s the wedding?” Elle asks, face a little distorted by her laptop camera. Allie grins, wide and bright and happy, and shifts how she’s sitting on the bed.

“Really nice. It’s so sunny here, Elle, not at all like New York. I keep forgetting that it’s nearly November.”

Elle scrunches her face up. “You don’t need to rub it in.”

Allie shrugs. “Can’t help it; I’m really just living the life.”

Elle lets out a little snort. “Where’s Harry at? I want to tell him that his chocolate chip cookies are better than yours.”

“Haha, very funny. He’s in the shower right now.”

Elle raises her eyebrows. “And you’re not in there with him?”

Allie makes a face. “You’re really just on a role with these jokes today, aren’t you.”

“What can I say, I’m just a natural born comedian.”

The bathroom door swings open and Harry comes out wearing only a towel. Elle rolls her eyes. “You’re showing a lot of skin there, Bingham.”

Harry waves. “Hey Elle.”

“Well I’m gonna get going before I have to see something I don’t wanna see. I’ll talk to you later, Allie.”

“Talk to you later, Elle.” 

Harry hits the button to hang up the phone before Allie gets a chance too, hovering over her. 

She smiles over up him. “You really are showing a lot of skin, Bingham.”

“You gotta a problem with that, Pressman?”

She bites her lip and shakes her head at him. “Not at all."

  
  


* * *

She doesn’t mean to overhear the conversation. 

Everyone’s at dinner. Dinner’s actually just about finished. Her and Harry had just ordered a chocolate lava cake for dessert when she goes off to the bathroom. And then, when she’s returning, as she approaches the table, she hears them talking. 

“You two make a really cute couple.” She hears Kelly say. “How long have you two been dating?” 

And that makes Allie wonder (again) if they even are going out. Once upon a time, they had sex after a rooftop dinner party got rained on. Now they go to weddings together. There was no in-between moment, no moment where they explicitly said that they were more than friends.

She fully expects him to laugh Kelly off, for him to shake his head and say, “Oh no, we’re not dating.” She’s ready for him to say that; if she were in his situation, that’s what’d she’d say. If Cassandra were to call her up and ask if she was dating anyone, she would most definitely not mention Harry.

So she slows down her walk, sort of hides behind some decorative plants (okay, so maybe she did mean to overhear the conversation, but just a little). “About six months now.”

_ Fuck. _ Harry thinks they’re in a relationship.  _ Are they in a relationship? _ It’s one thing to wonder about it, for it to be entirely one-sided in that way. It’s an entirely different thing when the person who you’ve supposedly been in a relationship with for months has potentially known that for months when you’re just now hearing about it.  _ And what the fuck happened to friends with benefits? _

But she returns to the table, smiles when Harry nudges her, and shares the chocolate lava cake with him. She doesn’t want to think too much about it, because what they have is good, and thinking will just ruin it.

  
  


* * *

“What are we Harry?” she asks when they’re back in their hotel room. It’s nearing midnight. The lights are all off. Harry yawns. 

“What?”

They’re best friends, all for honesty and transparency so she comes right out and says, “I heard you talking to Kelly back at the restaurant and-- six months-- I just didn’t even realise…”

The lamp on Harry’s side of the bed switches on. “Allie--”

“I just don’t want to ruin anything, you know? This has been really good to us, whatever it is, and I’m just afraid that the second we go trying to label it, go trying treat it like something it’s not or isn’t, it’ll just get messed up.” She pauses, looking over at him. He looks worried, scared even. She hates that. “You’re my best friend, Harry. I don’t wanna ruin that.”

There’s no silence before his words. He jumps right into them. “You’re my best friend too, Allie. You’re right; we shouldn’t...” 

He never finishes his sentence. Still, she falls asleep with her head on his chest. Allie wonders if this is how it ends for them, with her being too scared to let something change. 

In the morning, his arms are still wrapped around her. Neither mention the talk from the night before. She doesn’t think again about their end again.

  
  


* * *

Hawaii ends just as quickly as it begins. 

Kelly and Becca get married in a rush of sunlight and laughter. Eden sits with Allie and Harry at dinner, and she decides that one day she wants kids too (Harry’s face is in that future. That scares the absolute shit out of her. She doesn’t mention it to him). 

They lounge on the beach, and return to their hotel room slightly burnt and covered in sand. Her hair is a tangled mess, but Harry’s looks good. She’d stay here if she could, and he’d stay here with her. It’d be perfect.

On the flight home, they move the armrest between them up and sleep the entire time. Harry buys a twenty dollar fuzzy blanket at the airport (“This is your Christmas gift this year, Pressman.”), and they drape it over top them for the flight home. In the taxi, on the way to his apartment (she’s spending the night there. She tells herself it’s because that’s the easiest way to go and not because she’s starting to have a hard time not being near him), he holds her hand tight and they talk through video ideas. 

She decides that the best part of the trip was the quiet, and being alone with just Harry, falling asleep beside him each night. And also the ocean, and the weather, and Kelly and Becca and everyone else.

(Back at his apartment, laying next to him in his bed, it almost doesn’t feel like it’s over yet.)

  
  


* * *

**HarryBingham posted a picture**

  
  


**HarryBingham** _hawaii. @allie.pressman got a really bad sunburn. wishing her a speedy recovery_

  
  


Comments:

**allie.pressman:** thnx for caring, harry

**allie.pressman:** but also wtf happened to you not posting that 3rd picture??? 

** HarryBingham:** you looked really cute in it. couldn’t help myself

**Helena_Wu:** @allie.pressman @HarryBingham You guys are so cute. Glad you didn’t drown in Hawaii. (ngl, everyone was a little worried)

**grizzzzzzzviser: ** Nice pictures, Harry! (but maybe less of Allie next time. I’m not trying to say I’m more photogenic but…)

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed! pls pls pls tell me what you think; i live for comments!
> 
> (also, check out my [tumblr](https://in-my-head-i-do-everything-right.tumblr.com/)! i'll maybe even give out little sneakpeaks for future fics if you ask nice enough!)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And then his lips are on her’s, and she’s still smiling (loud and bright). They’ll walk hand in hand all the way to the food truck. He’ll take pictures of her eating a banh mi and she’ll demand he deletes them immediately (he doesn’t). 
> 
> (Later, when he posts it, she doesn’t even care. She’s happy.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ugh this took me so long. very sorry about that. lots of fics in the works, though, so hopefully i'll be able to finish something over thanksgiving break.
> 
> had lots of fun writing this chapter. the lyrics at the start are once more from the song 'Love Song' by Lana Del Rey
> 
> hope you enjoy!

  
  


_ We go fast, we go so fast, we don’t move _

  
  


* * *

  
  


**Harry and Allie Make Macarons Part one: “This is all your fault!” | Bon Appetit**

_ Bon Appetit • 2.5M view • 3 days ago _

  
  


Allie’s staring at the camera, face blank. In the background, Harry can be seen tying his apron strings. He looks a little like he’s about to turn around and ask Allie for help. She does not look like she’d help him.

“This was all Harry’s idea.”

He turns around to first stare at her and then the camera. “You love macarons!”

“When they’re made by someone else! These things fucking suck to make.” 

Harry grins at the camera sheepishly. “Don’t tell Allie,” he says, leaning into the camera conspiratorially. “But I haven’t made macarons since culinary school.” 

Allie rolls her eyes. “I wanted to work with Grizz on this, but he was busy.”

Harry gasps, just loud and dramatic enough to make Allie almost smile. “You traitor!”

“This is going to be a really long series.” She looks at Harry as she says that. He’s looking at her too.

“I’m excited.”

  
  


> **FrankOceanDHL** 2 days ago
> 
> Harry deciding to make macarons just because they’re Allie’s favorite will forever be a mood.
> 
> **View 2 replies v**
> 
>   
  

> 
> **inever(sawyoucoming) **1 day ago
> 
> Harry: *carefully measuring out everything and talking people through all of the steps*
> 
> Allie: lol idgaf anymore
> 
> **View 5 replies v**
> 
>   
  

> 
> **dearaplangusuck** 3 days ago
> 
> Take a shot everytime Harry stares lovingly at Allie (or don’t cause alcohol poisoning)

  
  


* * *

  
  


**What Makes the Perfect Thanksgiving Meal? | Making Perfect: Thanksgiving - Prologue | Bon Appetit**

_ Bon Appetit • 4.5M view • 5 days ago _

  
  


“I think my biggest fear is having to spend a Thanksgiving alone with miss _ marshmallow-sweet- potatoes _over here.” Harry says, nudging Allie with his elbow. 

“Fuck you Harry, marshmallow sweet potato casserole is an iconic Thanksgiving dish.”

The camera zooms in on Helena who rolls her eyes and mouths, “These two.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


Will asks her out to lunch two weeks after they get back from Hawaii. 

She says no. 

“I’m sorry, it’s just that I already have plans with Harry; we’re checking out that new food truck-- the vietnamese sandwich one-- and I’ve been craving banh mi for forever and I even heard that they have thai iced tea and I haven’t thai tea in so long, and--”

Will lets out a slight laugh. “Allie, it’s fine. Maybe some other time?”

“Sure.” She’s not even looking at him when she says that. She’s looking at Harry, who’s standing near the elevator holding her coat (he always grabs her coat for her. It’s nice). She smiles at him, and Will laughs again (less humor this time, though, more breath).

“I’ll see you later, Allie.”

“See you later.”

Harry’s laughing when she gets to the elevator. He holds out her coat to her and she makes a face at him. 

“So Will’s got a thing for you, huh?” he says, eyebrows raised. He’s smiling though (always loud and bright), and she can’t help but smile back. 

“Shut up, Bingham.” 

“Who’s gonna break it to him?”

She laughs. “Harry, shut up.” 

“Should we just kiss in front of him?”

“Oh my God, you really just don’t shut up, do you?”

And then his lips are on her’s, and she’s still smiling (loud and bright). They’ll walk hand in hand all the way to the food truck. He’ll take pictures of her eating a banh mi and she’ll demand he _ deletes them immediately _ (he doesn’t). 

(Later, when he posts it, she doesn’t even care. She’s happy.)

  
  


* * *

  
  


**Brie ** _ @BonAppetitHallie • 30 minutes ago _

Guys wtf have you seen this pictures of Harry and Allie walking around NYC together??? Omg

  
  


**Adela Lang** _@adela.lang2 • 1 hour ago_

I swear i just saw Harry Bingham and Allie Pressman (from Bon Appetit) walking around New York. They were talking and laughing and laughing and looked really happy!

  
  


**Allison** _@Halliesreal • 10 minutes ago_

Fuck they’re cute 

  
  


* * *

  
  


**Will Makes Taco Pie | From the Test Kitchen | Bon Appetit**

_ Bon Appetit • 1.1M views • 3 days ago _

  
  


“This is one of my favorite things to make just because of how versatile it is. I like to make it with a Frito crust but---” The camera pans from Will to Harry and Allie who are standing close near the stove. Allie throws her head back laughing and Harry smiles at her. 

Will rolls his eyes. He’s frowning. “I don’t get why everyone is so obsessed with those two. I really just don’t see it.”

The camera cuts back to him. In the background, though fuzzy now, Allie and Harry can be seen still laughing. They’re standing even closer now. 

“Okay, so back to taco pie. There are three big ingredients…”

  
  


* * *

  
  


“Will’s totally got a thing for you.”

“Shut up, Harry.”

“Not until you say it.”

“You really need to get over this.”

“Say it, Pressman.”

“Shut up, Bingham.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


Grizz and Harry are paired together to make the turkey for _ Bon Appetit’s _ perfect Thanksgiving dinner video series. Neither of them know what to do. 

So they call in Gordie who also doesn’t know what to do. 

And now they’re all around Harry’s dining room table trying to plan out the perfect way to cook a turkey, and Allie can’t figure out if they’ll notice if she spends the night at Harry’s house. 

“Grizz, I am very quickly running out of fucks. I hate turkey,” Harry says, crumpling up a sheet of paper and throwing it on the ground. (His laptop is open and on the table; he’s crumpling the paper just to be dramatic.) Beside him, Gordie puts his face in his hands and makes some sound between a cry and a groan. 

“We’re deep frying it!” Grizz shouts. Allie thinks that she could slip out if she really needed to, right here, right now.

“We are not deep frying it!”

If she stays any longer, if she falls asleep beside Harry wrapped up in that fuzzy blanket she brought over from her place last week, Gordie and Grizz will wonder what exactly is going on between them. (Because to the people at _ Bon Appetit _, all her and Harry are are friends, too people who sometimes flirt a little.)

So she taps Harry’s shoulder (his face is in his hands now too), and says, “I’m gonna get going. I’ll see you guys at work tomorrow.”

She leaves to a chorus of “Bye Allie”s and a slightly confused look on Harry’s face. She walks home and falls asleep in her bed. Her fuzzy blanket (the one that smells a little like Harry now), isn’t there, and she misses it (and him).

  
  


* * *

  
  


He meets her at her apartment the next morning. 

“You didn’t have to leave last night,” he tells her, handing her a tea from the coffee shop down the block. It’s still warm.

“Gordie and Grizz were there, it would’ve looked weird if I’d spent the night.”

He shakes his head. He’s not looking right at her, though; he’s looking down at the ground, at his feet, then at a spot just above her ear.. “No it wouldn’t have. You spend the night all the time.”

She rolls her eyes. It’s way too early for her to be dealing with this. “For all they know, we’re just friends, and just friends don’t casually sleep next to each other.”

Harry looks a bit like he’s going to interject, to say something about how they’re not just friends, about how she shouldn’t care so much what other people think, but he doesn’t, he stays quiet. (She almost wishes he had said something, that they’d finally address the fact that this-- whatever the fuck is going on between them-- is starting to feel way more personal than just two friends who have sex sometimes.)

“If you don’t feel comfortable spending the night, that’s fine,” he finally says. They’re outside her building now. It’s cold; she pulls her coat just a little bit tighter around her. “But just know that I’m cool with it.”

“Okay.”

They don’t talk until they get into work. She kisses him in the elevator, and when he smiles at her, she thinks that they’ll be just fine.

  
  


* * *

  
  


**Allie and Bean Try to Make the Perfect Thanksgiving Sides | Making Perfect: Thanksgiving Ep 4**

_ Bon Appetit • 4.5M view • 5 days ago _

  
  


“Sides are obviously the most important part of Thanksgiving,” Allie says, and Bean nods her head in agreement. 

“Anyone who thinks that turkey, that dry, bland, downright boring tasting bird is the best part is wrong,” Bean adds.

Allie nods too. She’s trying very hard to stay serious and failing miserably. “And stupid.”

In the background, Harry can be seen making a face at the camera. It zooms in on him “Hey,” he calls out. “You’re only saying that to be mean to me.”

Allie and Bean pretend not to hear him.

“Once,” Bean says, turning to Allie. “My boyfriend decided to deep fry a turkey and--”

“Wait,” Allie interrupts. “Was it any good, though?”

“Oh it was delicious. Deep frying is definitely the way to go if you can pull it off. Anyway, he almost burned our house down by not defrosting the bird completely. He was literally about to put a frozen bird into a vat of hot oil.”

Allie laughs. “He’s lucky you’re there then, huh. Harry and Grizz spent two days straight at Harry’s place figuring out how the best way to cook the turkey. They pulled all nighters like college kids for literally no reason.”

“Turkey’s not fun.”

From behind the camera Becca can be heard yelling, “You guys are not supposed to be talking about turkey!”

There’s a brief silence as both Bean and Allie remember their assigned dish.

“Sides though,” Allie turns back to the camera. “Are very fun.”

Bean lets out a snort and Allie grins at the camera. “Who even needs turkey.”

Becca groans. “Stop talking about turkey!”

  
  


> **ughfinalzweek **3 days ago
> 
> I think we all deserve to see footage of Harry and Grizz trying to figure out how to cook a turkey at 2 am. 
> 
> **View 3 replies v**
> 
>   
  

> 
> **Nananana** 2 days ago
> 
> Bean and Allie is the combo I never knew I needed
> 
>   
  

> 
> **sourpathkids **4 days ago
> 
> Becca constantly reminding them to focus on the sides is me during all group projects
> 
> **View 3 replies v**
> 
>   
  


* * *

  
  


She doesn’t become proper friends with Bean until after their Thanksgiving video together. She wishes she’d gotten closer to her sooner, because she’s an amazing person, funny and smart and kind.

They get lunch together a week after they finish shooting the Thanksgiving sides video. Bean’s boyfriend calls her fifteen minutes in. She takes the call outside. Allie watches her, a bit like a stalker, how her face lights up at certain moments, and how she smiles nearly the entire time. (Allie wonders, albeit briefly, if that’s how she looks talking to Harry.)

“Sorry,” Bean says when she gets back to the table. “Jason, my boyfriend, is in London right now for work and just wanted to tell me about this thing he found, it’s like this weird pan, and he wants to bring it home but isn’t sure if it’ll fit in his suitcase, and he was just really excited about it.”

“No, it’s totally fine. I’ll have to see this weird pan, though.”

Bean smiles. “The second he gets back and call you up.”

The food arrives and they talk about work. Bean mentions how much pressure there is on her to make another viral recipe, and Allie relates so so much. 

“Sometimes I worry that if I don’t get enough views or clicks or whatever the fuck they measure our success by, they’ll fire me. Harry always has to calm me down, tell me not to think so much.”

“You and Harry are good together,” Bean says with a sort of certainty that makes Allie pause before correcting her. She still does correct her, though, with a practiced confidence. When it first started happening, people mistaking her and Harry for a couple, she would tell him about it. Now, though, she doesn’t, because every time she he gets this look on his face like they need to talk about something. (She’s afraid of talking to him and ruining a good thing. They’ve got a good thing going.)

  
  


* * *

  
  


They both go home for Thanksgiving. They drive together, both to Connecticut. Allie lives in Greenwich, while Harry lives in some small town about 20 minutes west. 

Neither own a car, so they rent one. When the agency mistakes them for a couple, they don’t say anything. (Allie even likes it a little.)

It’s a blue Camry. Harry complains that it makes him feel like a _ real, proper adult _, and Allie tells him that her sister drives this car. 

“Ooh, the famed Cassandra Pressman. You’re making me feel better already.”

Allie laughs. “She’s the most adult person I know; has really got her life together.”

Harry still drives the Camry. His sister texts him while they’re on the road, and Harry makes Allie promise not to tell her about the car.   
  


“She’d never let me hear the end of it, would say I’m turning into our mom.”

Allie sends the girl (her name is Sarah, by the end of the drive, she’s got her number) a video of Harry singing along to a Taylor Swift song from 2012. She’s singing along too, though she doesn’t sound anywhere near as good as he does. (Her fingerprint is in his phone, from when they’re testing recipes and his hands have food on them and hers don’t and she needs to get into it. She knows his passcode, too, his birthday. She doesn’t think about what this means.)

And she’s happy, so incredibly happy. If this was it for her, Harry Bingham and drives home, she wouldn’t mind it. She wouldn’t mind it at all. (She doesn’t think too long about that, either.)

  
  


* * *

  
  


“I swear to god Harry if you complain about my music one more time…”

“You suck at DJ-ing!”

“Let me drive then!”

“I bet you suck at driving too.”

She rolls her eyes, and he laughs. “Fuck you. I’m an amazing driver. Passed the test and everything.”

Harry’s eyebrows furrow together. “Don’t you need to pass the test _ to _ drive; isn’t that the whole point of the test?”

“I mean, I guess.”

“I don’t trust you to drive.”

Allie thinks for a second about just grabbing the wheel before imagining everything that could go wrong with that. They didn’t get rental insurance which means they’re fucked if anything happens to the car. Maybe she shouldn’t drive.

There's quiet for a second. Maggie Rogers can be heard in the background, faded and slow. Harry’s tapping his fingers along to it on the wheel, eyes staring straight ahead. The road is lined with trees, and it all feels like home. 

“You’ll drop me off at my house, yeah?” 

“Nah, thought you could walk.”

Allie rolls her eyes. It’s weird imagining Harry seeing the place she grew up, even briefly. She wonders if he’ll look out of place, or (quite possibly worse) if he’ll look like he’d always been there, like he belonged.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Cassandra isn’t home for Thanksgiving. Allie’s almost thankful for that. It’s one thing for her parents to meet Harry. They can meet him in passing; she can introduce him as a friend (she won’t include ‘from work’ as a preface. They’re beyond that now), and maybe everyone will talk for a second before Harry insists that he just _ has to get going _ and then everyone can say goodbye, and it’ll be over just as quickly as it began. 

If Cassandra was there, though, Allie worries she’d see right through whatever facade they put up. She’d notice how close they were, and probably wonder why Allie hadn’t told her about them sooner (because she was scared of how serious it sounded, introducing someone who’s maybe almost your boyfriend to your family as such). She’d see through everything, tell them things that they don’t even want to know. That’s what Cassandra does, she takes charge of the situation and decides what’s best for everyone involved. (And she’s still Allie’s best friend, her closest confidant. It’ll feel wrong to show her Harry when he’s the one person she’s ever really kept away from Cassandra.)

  
  


* * *

  
  


“You don’t have to get out of the car,” Allie says as they pull into her neighborhood. The music off now, so he can hear her directions. It’s a little confusing, the suburbs; the streets all look the same. 

“I can’t just drop you off.”

“Yes you can.”

“I’m walking you to the front door, at least. Best case scenario, I eat pumpkin pie with your mom and she shows me baby pictures.”

“That is not happening, Harry.”

He pulls into her driveway. Her mom must see the car, because just as they step out, the front doors wide open, and her mom’s face is peaking out.

“Allie!” she shouts, and Allie grins. Harry’s right beside her. “And who’s this?”

And now her mom is right in front of her and Harry, right in front of the blue Camry. “Harry Bingham,” he introduces, holding his hand out for her to shake. 

“Nice to meet you, Harry.” 

“Nice to meet you too, Mrs. Pressman.” 

“Oh, call me Beth,” she says, waving him off. They’re all walking toward the house now. Harry looks way too smug. “Allie, you didn’t tell me you were bringing someone.”

“Harry’s not staying. He’s just dropping me off on his way to his _ own _ family.” Allie makes a point to make a face over at Harry. He just grins back, all wide and bright (just like usual). 

“Well I’ve got a little while before I have to be over here. Traffic was good; we’re a little ahead of schedule.” 

Her mom smiles at him. They’re at the door now. She ushers them both inside. “That was very nice of you take Allie all the way from New York. Do you want a drink, or something else, before you have to hit the road again?”

“Water would be great, Mrs. Pressman.” They’re in the front hallway. Harry points at a photo of Allie and Cassandra, circa age seven. “Is that you, Allie?”

She makes a face at him. It’s very obviously her. He grins back. “Yep,” she deadpans.

“You were cute.”

“I peaked at seven.”

He shakes his head. He’s moved closer to her, shoulders brushing as his eyes flick between the pictures on the wall. “Nah, I wouldn’t say that.”

And now her mom is beaming, somehow back from the kitchen with a full glass of water. She hands the thing to him and pulls a photo album seemingly out of thin air.

“Do you want to see baby pictures of Allie? Her dad went through a little bit of a photography phase when she was little, so we have tons.”

Allie lets out a loud groan. Her mom looks at her, confused, and Harry stiffles a laugh.

He leaves over thirty minutes later with a new contact photo for Allie and a slice of apple pie (her mom literally cut the pie early for him. When did this become her life?)

  
  


* * *

  
  


“Well he seemed like a nice boy.”

“He is, mom.”

“And you’re _ just friends _.” She sounds a little like she doesn’t believe Allie.

“Yeah, just friends.”

“Okay.”

In less than two hours, Harry will call her. He’ll tell her that he got to his family's house and that her mom’s apple pie was _ absolutely delicious _ . Allie will ask him _ why the fuck he ate it so early _, and he’ll tell her he was hungry. He keeps silverware in his bags (they’re plastic and from all the takeout he orders), she already knows that. When she learned that she doesn’t know, though. All the sudden, he was just there, and everything that came with him she knew. 

Her mom watches her talk on the phone with Harry from the door. When Allie hangs up (twenty minutes later. Harry wanted an excuse to avoid his family, and Allie wanted to talk to him), her mom smiles at her, all soft and knowing. Allie turns a light pink and asks if she needs any help in the kitchen. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


They drive home together, too, the backseat filled with tupperware containers that Harry insisted on buckling in. 

“Sarah saw the car.” The music is turned down low. Allie keeps looking to the back seat to make sure none of the food has toppled over. The seatbelts do very little.

“How did you expect her to not see it? It was literally going to be parked in your driveway.”

“Blind faith in all things good in the world.”

Allie lets out a little snort. Harry grins at the road. After a moment, Allie says, “My mom wrote down her apple pie recipe. I know we can’t make it for a video, but I was thinking about doing a ‘how to make pie’ series. Does that sound good?”

He nods (bright and happy and loud. Somehow, everything he does is bright and happy and loud). “Sounds amazing.”

She smiles at the road. The sun sets early now, at five o’clock. It’s already dark outside. “My mom really liked you.”

He beams. “I liked her too.” He pauses as he makes a turn. A passing car’s headlights shine against them. Allie can’t help but stare at him. “My sister likes you, probably more than she likes me.”

“What can I say, I’ve got a talent for making Binghams like me.”

“I guess you do, Pressman.”

It only takes them an hour to get home, to somehow stuff all of the tupperware containers into Harry’s fridge and settle onto the couch to watch and old Disney movie that Harry’s paying $6.99 a month for.

  
  


* * *

  
  


**HarryBingham posted a picture**

  
  


**HarryBingham** _ very thankful for a lot of things this year, but especially for these pictures of @allie.pressman, and the best apple pie i’ve ever had _

  
  


Comments: 

**allie.pressman: **tb to when i was cute

** HarryBingham:** shut up, you’re always cute

**grizzzzzzzviser:** What happened to my apple pie being the best!? A BA’s Best title isn’t just given to anyone, Harry. You told me it was “perfect”. I feel lied to.

** HarryBingham:** sorry dude

**KellyAldrich-Gelb:** Glad to see you still keep plastic forks in your bag. Things really don’t change.

** allie.pressman:** he’s added spoons and knives to his collection. what’s next???

  
  


* * *

  
  


**Grizz Makes Kombucha | It’s Alive | Bon Appetit**

_ Bon Appetit • 4.5M view • 6 days ago _

  
  


Grizz spends the first thirty seconds of the video staring at a bottle of store bought kombucha. While he is doing this, Harry and Allie walk into the shot. They’re a little out of focus, and making their way down the kitchen. Harry keeps bumping into Allie’s shoulder, and Allie’s leaning a little towards him. 

The camera zooms in on them in the background. They’re standing near the door now; Harry’s holding Allie’s coat out to her, and she’s pushing the door open. She turns around to face him and throws her head back laughing. 

The camera pans back to Grizz. He rolls his eyes. “There they go, off to lunch again. They never bring me anything back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls pls pls tell me what you think! also, feel free to send me asks about anything on [tumblr](https://in-my-head-i-do-everything-right.tumblr.com/) (if you ask nice enough, i might even give you a sneak peak into what ever I'm writing!)
> 
> hope you liked this chapter, and i can't wait to share the next one with you!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For a half a second, she thinks she loves him. She pushes that thought away as quickly as she can and watches Harry throw wrapping paper behind him dramatically. She pushes it away and she smiles and she laughs and she tries not to think too hard about what all of this means.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so sorry this took so long. it's just been sorta crazy lately. most of this chapter was written over the course of one day, so there's probably a lot of things that are a bit out of place. i hope you can at least sort of look past them until i can gather the motivation to go through and fix things. 
> 
> also, i don't know if anyone watches bon appetit on a regular basis, but i recently saw a video with Delany and Christina paired up for something and i just thought that they're dynamic is nearly watch i imagine harry and allie having. honestly, watching the videos with the delany christina pairing in them is what largely inspired me finishing this chapter.
> 
> so, again, sorry it took forever. i still hope you really enjoy it!

_Would like to think that you would stick around _

* * *

  
  


Allie still thinks it’s a little strange that she’s technically internet famous. She has nearly a million followers on Instagram. Nearly a million people care enough to want to see her posts. What the fuck. 

It’s mostly just pictures of her making food, or the food itself because said food looks very tasty and she wants to remind people that she went to and paid money for culinary school. Harry’s Instagram is actually properly artsy. He has a fucking aesthetic that’s he’s trying to maintain. He includes all these pictures he takes on fancy cameras and edits on fancy programs that he paid real money for. He’s also the only person who she has post notifications on for (he turned them on himself and she doesn’t have the heart to switch it off). 

Six months in to working at _ Bon Appetit _ she starts posting these really long home cooking videos to her Instagram stories because she thinks the idea of someone tapping really fast through them is funny. Also, Jenna Fisher does them sometimes and a whole lot of Allie’s personality is based entirely off of Pam from _ The Office _. By the holdiays, Allie’s ultra long stories are practically weekly. They’re fun, and light, and make her happy. It’s a whole lot less organised than at work; she’s allowed to do exactly what she wants, and she doesn’t have to pause for the perfect shot. Everything’s happening in real time. 

She films the stories mostly in Harry’s kitchen because he (they? She spent an hour on Sunday cleaning that fucking white tile backsplash that Harry got spaghetti sauce on) keeps it insanely clean, and he has a little cabinet that she can put her phone up in to film (not at all because she’s spending an insane amount of time at his place. It’s the cabinet, all the cabinet).

During a long, snowed in weekend (no work for either of them today. They coordinate their days off), Allie decides to make cherry pie, the perfect cherry pie, the pie her mom makes during the summer, the pie Allie grew up eating. It’s crust is pretty much all butter, and she’s pretty sure the cherries her mom used were mostly just the syrup they were preserved in, but it’s also Allie’s most favorite thing ever and Harry cannot ruin that for her no matter how hard he tries. 

She doesn’t rewatch the videos before posting it onto her story, but even she knows that in the background of the first one, Harry’s voice can be heard yelling, “Canned cherries are cheating,” because not only is he that asshole, but she is also in his kitchen in his apartment about to sit on his couch to watch _ The Great British Baking Show. _

She also knows that she rolled her eyes at the camera and yelled back, “It’s December, Harry! Cherries are not in season!” She knows that she’s wearing a Harvard t-shirt that’s too big for her, and her hair’s up in a messy bun. She knows that if people put everything together, it’ll be obvious that she spent the night at Harry’s. She knows that she doesn’t really care.

  
  


* * *

  
  


A week later, a kitchen tour Harry filmed with the _ NY Times _ comes out (the current raking for food based Youtube channels from major publications is _ Bon Appetit _ way up high and then the _ NY Times _ and then _ Buzzfeed _ , so Allie and Harry have a little bit of respect for the _ NY Times _). People recognise the tile backsplash and the two toasters from Allie’s stories. There’s a picture of them together on the fridge that can be seen for a split second (people still find it), and a shot of the kitchen barstools reveals a hoodie that looks very similar to one Allie was just wearing in an entirely unnecessary and way too long series of Instagram stories of her making brownies. The hoodie says Harvard on it and is pilling and may or may not have been the only thing she was wearing in that series of stories, not that anyone needs to know that. 

In the video, Harry prefaces opening the fridge with a warning. “My,” he pauses. It’s a very long pause. Allie watches the video with him when it comes out and laughs so hard at that part that it comes out a little like a snort. “...roommate is also a chef, so the fridge is always full and usually a mess.” 

There are two thousand comments on the video, most referencing, in some way, the word ‘roommate’. 

Neither of them care. Allie continues to wear various pieces of Harvard apparel. She starts a series on her Instagram story that’s just her making bread while Harry randomly interjects with sarcastic comments. Harry still posts too many pictures of her on his Instagram. People notice, people comment, people talk. Harry and Allie don’t care.

  
  


* * *

  
  


**Harry and Allie Make Candy Canes: “You burned the sugar!” | Bon Appetit**

_ Bon Appetit • 2.5M view • 3 days ago _

  
  


Allie stares at the camera. Harry is tying her apron strings for her. She makes a face. 

“I can’t believe you convinced me to do this.”

Harry grins. “A Christmas miracle!”

She turns to him. “This is a one time thing, Bingham. After this, never working with you again.”

Harry rolls his eyes. In the background, Helena is smiling at them. The camera zooms in on her for just a moment before returning focus to Harry and Allie. “You say that every time, Pressman, and yet here you are.”

She ignores him. “Did they teach you how to make candy canes at that fancy university of yours?” Allie asks, obviously baiting him. 

He takes the bait and runs with it. “Oh you mean Harvard? No they did not, I was too busy being an English Major.”

Allie’s eyes widen. She looks a little offended. The camera zooms in on her. “I get paid the same amount as him.”

Harry’s face returns to a grin. “Ha.”

The camera pans down just a little to show a shot of the various ingredients strewn across the counter (neither Harry nor Allie are one for neatness). In the foreground, Harry can been seen pushing a bit of Allie’s hair behind her ears. She can be seen smiling at him for just a second too long. She whispers something in his ear and he laughs, and that’s how the video starts.

  
  


* * *

  
  


It’s December 24th (Christmas Eve!) and it won’t stop snowing. She’s not sure she’s ever even seen this much snow. It’s coming down hard and fast and she can’t stop staring at it’s reflection in the streetlight across the street.

“I think you’re stuck here, Pressman,” he tells her, slipping behind and following her gaze. His arms slip around her waist. Allie leans against him. He is very warm. She’s cold. It feels right. 

There’s a moment where they both watch the snow fall before she turns around and makes a face at him. “I can’t believe I’m trapped here with you.” Her words are playful because, believe it or not, she actually kind of likes the idea of them being trapped in his really nice apartment while it snows, and he smiles so wide and so bright. 

“There are girls out there who would kill to be trapped here with me.”

She laughs and pulls him with her to sit on the couch. “Those girls are stupid.” Fuck, she’s one of those girls. 

Harry makes a face at her, and she’s smiling so hard it sorta hurts. 

Allie thinks she can hear the snow falling outside. Harry pulls a fuzzy blanket over them, the one from her apartment that’s lived at his place for months now. His head is on her shoulder. The only light in the room comes from a lamp in the corner. 

“You wanna finish The Great British Baking Show?” he asks her softly. He’s already moving to grab his TV remote. She nods from beside him. 

It started nearly a year ago and now she has his Netflix password. They share an HBO account too. They binge TV shows on his couch, the blue one that’s new. She helped him pick it out. She told herself that that was a normal thing, that that’s what friends do. (He didn’t even invite her, though, not properly. She was just there, along for the ride. It was never a question whether or not she would shop with him. In quiet moments, when she doesn’t think about the stupid blue couch, it almost feels like it’s just as much hers as it is his. That scares her a little now.)

It’s snowing and they’re cuddled under a fuzzy blanket on his (fuck, their?) couch watching _ The Great British Baking Show _. It’s Christmas Eve and she’s having a hard time imagining a better way to spend it. 

When the episode they’re on, the season finale, ends, Harry slips out from under the blanket, laughing when Allie attempts to pull him back to her. It’s cold outside, alright; that’s why she does it.

“Stay,” she whines, reaching towards him. 

“I’m grabbing your present, Pressman.” He’s still laughing as he gestures towards the clock on the microwave that reads 12:01. “It’s Christmas.”

There’s a Christmas tree in the corner that the two of them picked out at Target, a fake one because the real ones are too expensive. Allie sits up a little straighter on the couch so she can watch him grab the gift. 

“Grab yours too,” she tells him. They’re both wrapped in the silver wrapping paper Allie bought at some fancy bodega down the block. She had spent half an hour wrapping his so it would be _ just right. _ She had gotten a papercut.

He moves back to her, a gift in both hands. He hands her hers likes it’s some delicate thing. And tells her not to shake it. It makes her really want to shake it.

“You can shake yours,” she says and he laughs again and, fuck, when did she start liking his laugh so much? 

While she peels back the wrapping paper around her present, she can feel Harry’s eyes on her. She moves closer to him, close enough that they’re touching, close enough that his hand moves under the blanket to rest on her leg. 

She never knows how to react to gifts. When they were little, Cassandra used to plan reactions, reactions that would make her parents smile. Allie thought that was stupid, thought it was just another way for Cassandra to remind their parents why she was the favorite. When she opens the box to reveal chocolate macarons that Harry informs her are from her favorite bakery on Broadway, the too expensive on that she saves for special occasions, she smiles so wide it hurts. She doesn’t fake a reaction. 

(For a half a second, she thinks she loves him. She pushes that away and watches him throw wrapping paper behind him dramatically. She pushes it away and she smiles and she laughs and she tries not to think too hard about what all of this means.)

They’d agreed on small gifts (because they’re both just a little broke) so she’d bought him a Harvard fuzzy blanket. It’s red and gold and carries the insignia in the middle. It’s soft, arguably softer than the one lying on top of them, and she could imagine it on his couch as soon as she saw it.

When he kisses her, she bets she tastes like chocolate. They’re not even an hour into the day, but she already thinks this might be one of her favorite Christmas’ ever. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


**allie.pressman posted a picture**

  
  


**allie.pressman** _thnx for the macarons @HarryBingham. hope u liked the blanket._

  
  


Comments:

**HarryBingham:** merry christmas pressman

**elletomkins:** ooh save one for me

** allie.pressman:** in ur dreams @elletomkins

** HarryBingham:** @elletomkins she wouldnt even let me have one

  
  


* * *

  
  


When the street are cleared enough for them to get out, Harry walks her to her apartment like the wannabe gentleman he is. (She’s kidding. Harry might be perfect.) They wear gloves and hold hands and sip coffee he made when it still felt too early. He makes his coffee strong and uses some fancy machine that his mom got him. Allie still doesn’t know how to use it. The last time she tried, she somehow burned something. Harry thinks it’s hilarious. Allie thinks that he uses the stupid thing so often just to mess with her.

Outside, it’s flurrying. Snow is catching in Harry’s hair. For once, she’s the one who moves to take a picture. She accidentally takes twenty pictures of stupid good looking Harry Bingham with snowflakes in his hair. He does not deserve to be this cute.

“My ears are cold,” he complains. She snorts. They’re swinging their clasped hands between them. A few minutes ago, Allie had almost slipped on a patch of ice. Harry had kept her upright. She had joked that he’d saved her life and he had told her that he always would. She’d made another stupid joke, this time about a dragon, and he’d still laughed. 

“Your fault for not wearing a hat,” she shoots back. He makes a face at her. Fuck, how is he so cute? It’s really not fair. At least she’s smarter than him. There is a hat on her head. Her ears aren’t cold. 

On her stoop, Harry presses his way too cold lips to hers. They’re not chapped because she’s been forcing him to use carmex. It’s been so long now that he doesn’t even comment when his lips start to tingle, he just makes a stupid face. She has way too many pictures of that too. 

“You wanna come inside?” she asks even though she really shouldn’t. They’re spending too much time together. She’s growing dependent. 

He grins at her and suddenly she knows why she asked. Fuck, the things she would do for that grin. (That sounds wrong. Allie’s just trying to say that when Harry grins it makes her really happy, okay? Please do not read into that.) “Sure.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


**Harry Makes Chicken Noodle Soup | From the Test Kitchen | Bon Appetit**

_ Bon Appetit • 1.3M view • 2 days ago _

  
  


“Last week Allie had a really bad cold so I made her this soup and, get this, she was better within the hour,” Harry tells the camera. 

Allie scoffs. The camera moves to zoom in on her. Harry turns around to make a face at her. “I was not better within the hour and that soup did nothing for my cold.”

Harry turns back toward the camera. He motions for it to focus on him again. “Ignore her. She’s obviously still a bit delusional from that cold. The only reason she survived was because of the soup. It’s magic soup.”

Allie snorts from somewhere in the background. She can only barely be seen in the shot. “Why do I even bother trying with you, Harry?”

Harry grins. “You know you love me, Pressman.”

The camera pans back to her. She’s smiling.

Later, after the soup is finished and Harry is shouting for taste testers, Allie makes her way over. Harry feeds it to her and Helena can be seen rolling her eyes at them. 

  
  


> **Noodle Doodle** 6 hours ago
> 
> oH my GoD just imagine allie being sick and harry coming over and making her soup and feeding it to her and i really cant handle these two
> 
> **View 5 replies v**
> 
>   
  

> 
> **StreamRare1/10** 4 hours ago
> 
> Helena is all of us
> 
> **View 1 reply v**
> 
>   
  

> 
> **finalzweek** 9 hours ago
> 
> why tf did harry feel the need to spoon feed allie soup on camera??? i feel like i just witnessed something very private

  
  


* * *

  
  


When Cassandra calls all the way from wherever the fuck in Europe she is right now negotiating whatever the fuck type of contract she’s negotiating, the last thing Allie expects to hear is Harry Binghams name. 

Cass, however, as always, is full of surprises. 

“When were you going to tell me you were dating someone?” Cassandra asks with all her usual light teasing. Allie doesn’t care much for math, but she can’t imagine it’s a fun time to be awake in Europe right now. That’s probably why her sister is asking about a non existent relationship. 

“What are you talking about?” Just for fun, Allie adds in a bit of an awkward laugh right at the end. 

“Your coworker at _ Bon Appetit _? Harry something?” Allie’s near certain that Cass knows his last name already. She’s trying to sound casual. Fuck, is this important?

Allie really does not want this to be important. That’s probably why she laughs again. “Harry?” she repeats as casually as she can trying very hard not to think about last night at his apartment. she left her favorite pair of fuzzy socks there last week and went to get them back. She got a little off topic. She didn’t end up back at her apartment. She forgot the fuzzy socks. “We’re just friends.” Who are also fucking. Should she mention that or should she leave the emphasis on the ‘just friends’ bit. They _ are _ just friends. Allie wants that to be crystal clear. 

(Sometimes she’s afraid that Harry thinks they’re more than that. Sometimes she’s afraid she does too. When those ‘sometimes’ happen, she worries about ruining everything. They have a really good thing going.)

Cassandra laughs at the ‘just friends’. “Well the internet thinks you’re dating.”

Allie snorts. “So you fell down that rabbit hole?” Because of course that’s why her sister is calling at some ungodly European hour. She thought that Allie was in a relationship and was upset that she wasn’t the first to know. She thought the internet knew before her. 

Cassandra’s gaze softens and that scares the shit out of Allie. “Do you like him?”

“He’s my best friend.” That’s Allie’s go to answer in situations like this. She loves whipping out the best friend card. 

Cassandra scoffs. “You can date your best friend.” 

This all sounds like some argument Harry would make when it’s a little too late and Allies a little too tired to work out specifics. Sure, you can date your best friend, but let’s say in this hypothetical you break up and suddenly you’ve lost a best friend— oh, and wait, there’s more, you also work with this person so now you have to quit your job and start working at _ Buzzfeed _, potentially move across the country to LA, a sunny hell hole with lack of seasons. Or, you can keep things casual and try very hard to stay away from (or at least attempt to ignore) any feelings that inevitably pop up and when everything goes sour, you just fall back onto that whole ‘best fiends’ thing and keep your job and gain a funny anecdote that goes something like ‘Hey, remember when we used to fuck. Yeah, that really was a crazy time.’

“We’re not dating, Cass.” Allie tries her hardest to emulate her sisters stern but kind and also knowing tone. Allie likes to describe it as ‘kind know it all’. Harry uses it sometimes when talking about books. Fucking english major. 

“Are you having sex with him.” Of course her sister tries to keep things formal. Sex. Just say ‘fucking’, Cass. It’s not that bad. It’ll actually save you words. 

Also, Allie does not want to answer that question. So she remains silent. That’s probably a mistake. Oops. 

“Oh my god, you’re in a friends with benefits situation with your coworker.” Cassandra thinks this shocking. She also finds it humorous (Allie was thinking about a certain english major and now she’s in the mood to use big words). She keeps shaking her head in what Allie can only assume is disbelief. “Do you really think this is going to end well?”

Allie remains silent. It’s been nearly ten months. At this point, maybe they should just round up to a year. Friends with benefits sounds too casual for whatever the fuck they’re doing which is ironic because the whole point of them is to keep things casual (while also not seeing other people. Fuck, is Allie in a relationship?). 

Cassandra lets out a sort of breathy, disbelieving laugh. She shakes her head some more. “Well, happy belated holidays, Al. Hope we can talk some more soon. And that you figure whatever the fuck you’re doing with Harry out. I just… I don’t want you to get hurt, that’s all.” Fuck, she may or may not be in a relationship with Harry. This is not the time for her sister to be telling Allie to be careful. Sex. All they do is have sex. No feelings involved. None whatsoever. Yes, that is their relationship. 

Fuck, even Allie doesn’t believe that.

(She spends most of her time at his place. but that's only because it's bigger and closer to work and she has a whole half of his closet and buys groceries and records stuff on the DVR and shit, is she living with him too?

She is not in the proper head space to be thinking about this. She might be living with him. Oh my god. How can she twist this? Are they roommates? Yes. They are roommates, roommates who have sex sometimes and are best friends but also not in a relationship. Does that make sense to anyone?)

Allie sighs rather loudly and chooses to verbally ignore everything Cass just told her. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


If there’s one person in the world who would know the answer to whether or not Allie was living with Harry Bingham (she’s not even going to think about the idea of a relationship), it’d be Elle. (And also Harry, but Allie already thinks she knows his answer. His answer scares her.)

“Am I living with Harry?” Yep. There she goes, jumping in with the big questions. God, she’s good at this.

“Yes.” Elle says. She’s sitting on the couch and has a book in her hand. She doesn’t even look up from it even though she should seeing as this is sort of a revelation. This is a big moment. 

“You’re also dating him,” Elle adds casually which makes no sense because how the fuck can Elle be causal at a time like this? How can Elle hit her with that? Could she really not tell Allie was very much trying to avoid that topic. 

“Elle,” Allie begins as calmly as she can. Cassandra once told her that she could be a politician if she wanted to. Looking back, Allie’s pretty sure that Cass was joking, but it’s really the idea that matters. “We’ve talked about this. Harry and I are not dating.”

Elle rolls her eyes. “Oh, yeah, you two are just friends who fuck and are also living together which you should probably talk to _ him _ about since our lease is up in a month and I really don’t think it’d be a good decision for you financially to be paying for an apartment you don’t live in. I mean, I’ll miss you, but we can meet up for dinner every week, and—“

“We’re just friends.” Oh my god, Elle is really talking about her moving in with Harry. Elle is saying that they’re living together which Allie is only just beginning to accept (and only barely) and now she’s moving straight to moving in together. Do best friends who also have sex live together often? Is this a thing she can Google?

Elle sighs. “You can’t just ignore feelings until they go away, Allie, and you can’t just go around keeping everything the same just because it worked for a little while.” Fuck, Elle really just said that. Allie feels very seen. Does she really go around ignoring feelings? How long can she do this with Harry before everything self destructs on it’s own? Would that be better than actually trying?

“I’m going to ruin everything,” Allie says softly. 

Elle shakes her head. "No you're not."

Allie thinks about how her room is nearly empty, how her closet is sparse, and her bathroom cabinet contains only a lone bar of soap left from the previous tenant, which is actually sort of weird and she should probably throw it away just for safety reasons. She knows immediately where all of her stuff is. Her favorite fuzzy blanket sits on Harry's couch, two of her pillows are on Harry's bed because he didn’t have enough before, her wardrobe takes up half of Harry's closet (the right half. the closet door opens funny sometimes, and her arms aren't long enough to reach the stuff on the left. Harry always complains about 'the sacrifices he's made' whenever he has to grab a coat from the far left end of the closet, and she always laughs at him), and her toiletries sit atop Harry's bathroom counter. Her vinyl collection is mixed with his now, along with her library. She lives with him.

Somewhere along the way, they moved in together. She wonders if she’s the last one to realize it. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


It’s Monday, which means the day already sort of sucks.

But then she can’t get the chocolate to temper and Harry’s not even there to fix it for her so she has a mini mental breakdown on camera which is never fun. And then, she has no one to eat lunch with since Harry is off work today (they’re getting dinner later, though. It’s his turn to pay; she paid for italian last week) and Helena and Bean are off in Europe for a video and Will isn’t really talking to her after he asked her out and she said no. 

Grizz is still there, though, and she loves Grizz. Grizz asks her if she wants to eat with him, and getting to eat lunch with Grizz maybe might make up for the fact that her day is going very shitty-ly. 

Like the real chefs they are, they both pull their leftovers out of the microwave at the same time.

For a little while, they talk about Grizz’s relationship with Sam, her cousin. Grizz tells her he’s thinking about proposing soon. She thinks that’s the cutest thing ever, a properly defined relationship.

“So, you doing good Allie? I saw a bit of the shoot.”

She makes a face. “I fucking hate chocolate now, which sucks because it’s chocolate.” It’s true. Yesterday, in the grocery store, she saw a bar of the baking chocolate _ Bon Appetit _ uses and turned around and did not get the nutmeg that she needed for the pie recipe she was developing. She made Harry go back for it.

Grizz smiles at her. “And Harry’s not even here to help out. They better not put ‘Pastry Chefs’ in the title again.” Both of them laugh. “Has he decided on the _ NY Times _ offer yet?” 

Allie stares at him. What the fuck is Grizz talking about. She’s pretty sure her eyes widen almost comically. Did Harry get a job offer at the _ NY Times? _ They decided that was second rate compared to _ Bon Appetit. _ They made a fucking ranking. 

Allie calms herself down. She takes a deep breath and composed herself. Cassandra Pressman is her sister. and Cassandra Pressman is quite possibly the most composed person Allie knows. “I don’t think so.” Her voice is too breathy. 

Grizz nods. Allie swallows. There’s a pause.

“I think I should go back to work on the whole tempering thing,” Allie says too quickly for her not to sound nervous. “But we should eat lunch together more often, Grizz.”

She does not get back to tempering that stupid chocolate. Instead, she goes into the bathroom and cries for fifteen minutes. Later, when Harry asks about her day, she does not mention that portion.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Allie decides to be subtle when bringing up the whole job offer subject. She doesn’t even care that he didn’t tell her Nope, not at all. She cried because she was overwhelmed with work and not because there’s a very big possibility that Harry’s going to leave _ Bon Appetit. _(If Harry leaves, she worries that that’s it for them, that that’s the thing that pulls them apart. She’s not ready for it to be over yet.)

It’s seven o’clock and a bit dark out and they’re walking to this pizza place on Broadway where they’ll get a whole pie and eat the leftovers for lunch the next day. When she looks over at him, at stupid good looking Harry who always seems to know when she’s staring and always seems to stare back, she just can’t help it. She tries to say something.

“So let’s say someone is sorta in a relationship with someone else and then they get a job offer. Do they tell the other person or do they not.” Fuck, that doesn’t make any sense. She’s simultaneously being too vague and too specific. She’s screwed. 

Harry stares at her like he knows exactly what’s going on. He probably does know what’s going on; it’d take an idiot not to know. 

“Allie, what are you talking about?”

She bites her lip hard enough that she’s worried she might’ve drawn blood. “I just… Grizz mentioned a job offer from the _ Times _ and I was just…”

Harry lets out a half laugh. “That’s nothing.”

“You could’ve told me,” she replies softly. She’s looking up at him. 

“We’re not in a relationship,” Harry says. It sounds like a question. That makes Allie nervous. 

So, she pulls out the ‘best friend’ card. She really needs to figure out a new thing to say in these situations. “You’re my best friend.” Yep, there it is. “That means something.” 

Harry blinks at her. He swallows. He pauses. “You’re my best friend too.” But, fuck, he doesn’t sound right. He’s not bright or loud or happy. That scares her. 

They don’t talk about a job offer at a competing publications food based YouTube channel once because that is what two people in a healthy not-relationship do. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


At dinner, an older woman tells them they’re a cute couple. Harry looks to Allie before saying thanks. Allie doesn’t say anything because it took her way a solid two months to even stop laughing when people called them a cute couple. Harry used to laugh with her. Now, she thinks that she might have struck a nerve with Harry by not responding. That scares her a little more than she’d care to admit. 

And now they’re walking back from dinner and it’s raining and she’s not talking and Harry’s not talking either. Normally, them and silence is fine, only this silence feels wrong. It feels like they’re avoiding something (which they are).

And also, Allie’s a little pissed because, what the fuck. He’s her best friend (there she goes again with that classification as justification for these horrible things she’s feeling) and also possibly her roommate so maybe he should have told her about this at least before Grizz. Oh my god, what if he told Will before her too. That’d be horrible.

So she can’t help it, she talks about it even though literally everything in her is telling her not to. 

"Were you ever going to tell me about the _ Times _ offer?" she asks him. They’re standing on her stoop. He's putting her key in the lock, about to turn it. It sticks sometimes.

"It's just a job offer, Allie." He sounds tired. She’s tired. She is so tired. She can’t wait to step inside her apartment, to go into her room which doesn’t even feel like her room anymore, and sleep for a million years. She wishes she could get away with inviting him inside. She wishes she could fall asleep next to him.

"But you couldn't even tell me about it?" Who the fuck does he think she is? She's spent the last year right next to him. She has a right to know about shit like this. It's not just a job offer, and he doesn’t get to pretend that it's nothing. And, oh my god she’s getting really into this and really upset and this is not good. 

"Since when were we so close that I'd need to tell you about a fucking job offer, Allie. Last time I checked, you were real big on that ‘just friends’ shit." He’s looking at her, lips parted, eyes almost narrowed.

"You're my best friend, Harry." Yep, there’s that again. Twice in one night. 

"Oh don't pull that shit, Pressman." He’s upset with her. They’re fighting. They’re actually fighting a real fight with real consequences. This is different than little arguments they’ll get in over not replacing a toilet paper roll or turning the heat up too high. This is real.

So she fights back. "What the fuck does that even mean?" What the fuck are they if they’re not best friends? They've established this. They talked about this, about not ruining everything. Right now, it feels a little like they're ruining everything.

"You don't get to go around telling everyone that we're nothing and then come to me pretending we matter." They’re not nothing. They’ve never been nothing. Harry’s— fuck, she was about to say best friend again. 

"Harry, that's not--"

"We're just friends, Allie. You said it yourself. Why try to make this bigger than it already is. It doesn't matter if it's starting to feel way more personal than just…” They’re in a relationship. Elle was right. They’re dating and have been dating for months, maybe a year, and this is all her fault.

He takes a deep breath. She feels herself freeze up, wonders if he'd flinch if she moved towards him. "Sorry for not telling you about the_ Times _." 

He's gone right after that, slipping past her into the rain. It's pouring now. She watches him walk away, watches until he's too far gone to see, and then turns the lock on her door. It sticks for a second. She lets out a shaky laugh. She's not surprised when it turns into a cry.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Her room’s still empty and she’s ruined everything. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> was the wait worth it? no, probably not. bits of the next chapter are already done, so expect that up somewhat soon (give me a week, maybe? finals are very very very quickly approaching and i am getting scared).
> 
> as always, pls tell me what you thought of the chapter! i think i have a thing for the idea of harry and allie living together but not defining their relationship like idiots because it sure seems to pop up in my fics a lot.
> 
> (also, i have a bunch of things in the works rn that i am so excited for you guys to see! keep an eye out for some new fics coming soon!)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allie wonders if she just got dumped, if she can call it that if they were never really together. She wonders if they were ever never really together. 
> 
> She doesn’t know. That makes her cry harder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi. sorry this took so long. guess it just took a global pandemic to get me to update. hope you all enjoy!

_ oh, be my once in a lifetime _

  
  


* * *

  
  


Allie spent the summer before her senior year of college in France. It was all she talked about for months. Her friends got sick of hearing about french accents and french boys and french pastries. 

Really, everything starts for Allie in France. She can go back farther than that, back to Cassandra being sick, to the first time she made chocolate chip cookies, to college and every single meal she made in that tiny dorm kitchen.

France is bigger than all of that, though. France is everything. 

And then Harry Bingham comes along, and suddenly he’s the start. Suddenly, he’s everything. 

God, that sounds cheesy, and she hates that, but, fuck, he’s everything. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


So, picture this, Allie Pressman, star of the hit Youtube show _ Gourmet Makes, _ sitting on her sale section Urban Outfitters white feather down comforter (the one that keeps leaking feathers onto her hoodies) crying very ugly tears of mascara down her face because the waterproof stuff leaves her looking like a raccoon when she tries to remove it. 

She’s sitting on her bed and trying really hard not to think about how much she misses a purple fuzzy blanket and a harvard fuzzy blanket. She’s sitting on her bed and crying and thinking about too many things that remind her of him. (Chocolate Chip Cookies. Fuzzy blankets and neck pillows and cab rides. Blue Toyota Corollas and chocolate macarons and film cameras. Instagram and Thanksgiving and Christmas and Hawaii.

There are so many fucking things that make her think of him. Oh god, she’s in deep.)

So, there she is, crying way too much, way too hard, crying hard enough that she’s finding it difficult to breathe or see. And then there’s a figure in the door with blonde hair and what Allie hopes is a cup of tea. 

It’s Elle because Elle is amazing and kind and caring and way too good for Allie. Elle is the perfect roommate. Allie is a crying mess that does not deserve to be comforted. 

She met Elle in college, Freshman year. They were roommates and Elle was dating Allie’s cousin (the one who’s a complete and total asshole. Elle and Allie became better friends after Campbell was gone and Elle could breathe again) and everything was just a little bit easier. Elle was one of the few people who’d let Allie talk incessantly about France, and Elle’s the most constant figure in her life. Except for maybe Harry. Who she shouldn’t be thinking about (because she fucked everything up). 

“You okay?” Elle asks softly, sitting down next to her on that stupid old comforter. She puts the cup of tea (everything’s coming into focus again. Allie’s hiccuping and afraid to look in a mirror, but also only barely crying) on the bedside table and stares at Allie. 

“No.” Fuck, it feels really good to say that. No, everything is not okay. She has fucked up. She has messed things up and everything is very much not okay. She really wants to drink that tea right now. It’s steaming though, steaming just a little too much and probably too hot. Elle was probably just looking out for her by putting it on the table. God, Elle is too good to her. 

“So everything went wrong?” Elle asks softly. Allie reasons that that’s one way to put it. _ Everything went wrong _ is definitely one way to put it. 

Allie nods and waits for Elle to say _ I told you so. _

The _ I told you so _ doesn’t come. Elle says “sorry” all soft and quiet and sympathetic and Allie cries some more. 

She wishes she could take a self depricating seflie of her stupid mascara tears, but the only person she thinks she’d send it to is Harry and she’s got to get herself to stop thinking about him.

She wants to think of something that doesn’t feel tinged with Harry. She gives herself two seconds to come up with something. Nothing comes to mind. More tears. Fuck. 

Elle gives her a moment to wallow before asking, softly again because she knows Allie could do with something soft, “What happened?”

And Allie pauses her crying and thinks. There are two ways she could go about telling Elle about what a mess she just made. One involves thinking about everything before tonight, about the very start and the end (the whole point to them was that the end wouldn’t feel like the end, that it would just become something new for both of them and it would be clean and simple and nothing like how this feels right now) and everything in between. The other, the easier option, the less tiring option, involves tonight and only tonight. 

Guess which option she picks. (Number two. Obviously.)

“He got offered a job at the Times and didn’t tell me about it and I kinda freaked out at him and he reminded me that we decided to keep things casual and that,” she swallows a very quickly rising lump and tries to remain composed because that’s why she picked option number two, to remain composed and calm and attempt to regain some semblance of control. She’s failing at all of that. 

“He reminded me that I decided we weren’t in a relationship and that because of that I had no right to be upset,” Allie finishes. She reaches for the cup of tea and takes a very long sip.

“And you played the ‘best friend’ card?” Elle asks because she knows Allie way too well. 

The tea returns to the table. Allie falls backwards onto the bed, her stare fixed on the ceiling. “Yep.”

Elle lays down next to her. “How many times?”

Allie’s face scrunches up. “Twice.”

They lay in relative silence for a second. Allie sniffles rather loudly and Elle doesn’t laugh. Allie’s very thankful that Elle doesn’t laugh. 

“I’m so stupid,” Allie finally says. 

Elle sighs. “No you’re not.”

Allie sits up, fast enough that she might even call it a sit-up which she shouldn’t be able to do because she’s never had abs. It makes her dizzy but she thinks she deserves that. “Yes I am. It was-- it was stupid of me to even care about the job offer, but,” Oh my god she’s talking fast. She wonders if Elle is keeping up. Actually no, it doesn’t matter, this feels like something that’s more for herself than anyone else. 

“But he told Grizz before he told me. Grizz! And it’s not like-- it’s not like he’s been fucking Grizz for the past almost year. God I just-- what if he’s right? What if we really are nothing? Or were nothing, now that it’s… now that it’s over.” 

Elle sits up too, much more gracefully than Allie. “It’s not over.”

“Yeah it is.” Allie breathes the words out with just a bit of a cry. She doesn’t want to believe them so bad it hurts. 

Elle moves to pull some of Allie’s hair from in front of her face, braiding it back in a way that’s calming, that reminds her of Cassandra and being in high school.

“No it’s not,” Elle continues. “It’s not over until you two talk. You two will talk, not tonight because you’re a bit of a mess and, knowing Harry he’s probably not much better, and then everything will be okay.”

She doesn’t say anything, but fuck, she really wants to belive Elle.

Allie wonders if she just got dumped, if she can call it that if they were never really together. She wonders if they were _ ever _ never really together. 

She doesn’t know. That makes her cry harder. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


She doesn’t remember the first time he flirted with her, and she doesn’t remember the first time she flirted back either. She doesn’t remember the moment in which they became friends. 

She does, however, remember them meeting, her showing up late for the first day of work and him teasing her for it. And she remembers the first time they kissed and the first time they had sex as though it was all just one big moment punctuated by heavy rain outside and the lingering thought that what they’re doing isn’t exactly the definition of a good idea.

She thinks that there’s a million moments in which their casual friends with benefits thing became something more serious, that maybe it was when he learned how she took her tea, or when they started to coordinate days off. Maybe it was when they went home for Thanksgiving together, or maybe it was before that even, maybe it was at Kelly and Becca’s wedding way back at the start.

Or maybe it was never casual, because they were always complete shit at that anyway.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Elle tells her that it’s not just her fault, that Harry fucked up too, finishes the french braid and points to the clock before saying that Allie should try to sleep off all of the crying.

Allie nods because Elle is obviously in a better place mentally than she is right now and probably giving some good advice. It’d be really nice to sleep off all of the crying. Her face hurts. 

Only Allie can’t sleep. Which sucks because she’d really like to be able to sleep. (It’s one AM and she’s exhausted, tired straight down to her bones.)

Instead of sleeping, she she washes the mascara tears off of her face with an overpriced Glossier cleanser that she’s kind of in love with, changes into a hoodie and leggings, and stares out the bathroom window at the puddles on the sidewalk and the street lamp and then at the moon because of course it’s full tonight. 

All she wants is for everything to be alright. She just wants everything to be okay, and she wants to stop missing him like her life depends on it.

And so instead of sleeping and after she’s done staring at the street through her bathroom window, she puts in her earbuds, not her airpods, the ones that Harry made her buy that are at his place in a yellow case, and listens to her pity party playlist. 

On her phone, with night mode turned on because Cassandra always says that blue light at night was bad for your eyes and Allie already feels a headache from all of the crying beginning to form, she makes a list of reasons why everything went wrong. She wishes she could pretend that everything going wrong tonight hadn’t been the culmination of a bunch of really shitty decisions but she can’t. So she tries to make a fucking list because why not. 

She only gets two reasons in, one of them being an argument over chocolate chip cookies and the other on coffee versus tea, before giving up. Cassandra’s the one who makes lists. Cassandra makes lists and plans and has everything figured out. Cassandra is in control of her life and Allie is not.

Speaking of stupid Cassandra and her stupid well put together life, Allie can’t help but think of where her sister must be right now. Her phone screen is tinged orange as Allie searches the time in Belgium because she can’t stop thinking about the Belgium waffles Harry would make on weekend mornings and because she’s pretty sure Belgium is a European country that Cassandra could conceivably be in. The internet tells her that it’s 8 AM there right now. Allie doesn’t feel guilty calling.

  
  


* * *

  
  


She figures that at first it was just sex. That was how she convinced herself that it was casual, because everything stayed the same except for the fact that they’d go over to his place and fuck sometimes. That was it. 

Only suddenly that wasn’t just it. 

And maybe Allie’s complete shit with change. Maybe she likes things to stay the same for as long as humanly possible just to avoid it. Maybe she likes structure and stability and constants. 

This all probably has something to do with Cassandra being sick, but she’s not going to get into that. Nope, not gonna get into that. 

(Spending her entire childhood in waiting rooms and at her grandparents house and the smell of hospital soap and her mom telling her over and over that everything would be alright.)

In the beginning it was just sex, and by the end it’s two best friends living together and also having sex. Oh and also these two best friends work together, so that complicates things even further. 

Fuck, Allie’s going to have to get a new job now. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


The phone rings twice before Cassandra picks up. 

“So did everything go wrong?” Cassandra asks, sounding way too smug. Allie thinks very briefly about hanging up. Or lying. How difficult would it be to lie to Cassandra and say some shit like nope, Harry and I are great. Just wanted to see how you’re doing’?

It’d be really difficult.

“Yeah, Cass, I think I fucked everything up.” 

“I’m sorry.” Her sister sounds softer than before. Allie lays down on her bed, curled up on top of her comforter, phone pressed against her ear.

“I just don’t know what to do.” God, she sounds desperate right now. She sounds like a child, like a teenager with a broken heart. That’s so dramatic. She is being so fucking dramatic right now.

“Well it’s what-- three in the morning where you are? There’s not a lot you really can do.” Cassandra sounds like she’s just gotten her first caffeine hit of the day; light, casual, a little bit of humor. Allie wishes she could reach through the phone and punch her.

“I don’t know much about you and Harry, but from what I’ve gathered through the internet, he seems to really like you. Don’t worry.” 

“But what if I fucked everything up?” Allie seems to be saying that a lot. 

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I was the one who didn’t want things to change, and I was the one who refused to acknowledge everything that was going on and how much I depend on him and--” Allie swallows, biting the inside of her mouth. “It’s just scary, the idea of him being there, and I just fucking realised that.”

“So you love him?

Allie pauses, stops breathing for a moment as she thinks about how this started so simply and how now she really can’t imagine a future, a good future, a solid future, a happy future, that doesn’t involve Harry. 

Her screen is tinged orange and it’s two AM and fuck, she loves him. She loves a lot of things about him, and she’s known that for forever, but it’s never really hit her that she loves him, it never really hit her that that means something. 

She takes a deep breath. “Yeah, I think so.”

“I just want you to be happy, Allie,” Cass says softly. Allie thought she was all cried out but fuck was she wrong. 

“How do I fix everything?”

“Talk.” Cass says as though it’s the easiest thing in the world to do. Allie knows for a fact that it is not.

Soon after that, Cassandra says a soft goodbye and Allie pulls the covers over top of her. In her head, she makes a plan to rush to Harry’s as soon as the sun comes up. She’ll bring him a coffee, that fancy turkish coffee with the thick foam that’s mostly sweet and only slightly bitter, and maybe he’ll forgive her.

  
  


* * *

  
  


They were always at his place because it was larger. Only barely, but he also didn’t have a roommate, and all of his appliances were brand new, and he had roof access so they could go up there and stare at the city. 

Allie swears that the city looks the best from his rooftop. 

She has never been one for slow move-ins, for taking over someone’s closet and kitchen and bookshelves, but she realizes now that that’s what happened with Harry. It started with a change of clothes so they could go straight from his place to work. Then she has a shelf in his bathroom cabinet and a drawer in his dresser. The drawer became half his closet and neither said anything.

Harry must’ve known what was happening. He encouraged it even, making space and telling her to spend the night over and over again. She hadn’t thought anything of it. She’d gone along with it, texting Elle that she wasn’t going to be home, cuddling up against him on the couch while they watched cooking shows, eating Belgium waffles on the weekends and making cherry pie while wearing just his old Harvard shirt. 

She started buying groceries for him, taking the produce she’d bought back to his place in the reusable cloth bags he kept in a drawer in his kitchen. Allie thinks that that’s when she should have realized what was going on. 

She didn’t, though. Instead, she kept pretending like nothing had changed, like everything was the same as it had been at the start. 

And he pretended with her. That’s why everything was able to go so incredibly wrong.

  
  


* * *

  
  


She wakes up to someone knocking on the door. 

This is all her fault, all on her for choosing the room closest to the front door. Maybe if she hadn’t she wouldn’t be stuck trying to cover her ears with the singular pillow on her bed (yep, that’s right, the rest of them are at Harry’s. Good guess). 

Fuck, she is so tired. Her eyes feel puffy and everything is a little bit hazier than it should be. It’s bright outside, surprisingly, the sun out and the sky blue. It looks warm, though Allie knows it must be freezing out. 

Even with the pillow over her ears, she can hear Elle moving to unlock the door. The knocking stops. Allie thinks she hears him. 

Harry Bingham. 

She throws the pillow off of her way too quickly for someone who has gotten as little sleep as she has and strains to hear his voice again because there is a very solid chance that it’s not him at the door, that she’s going crazy or maybe just dreaming. There’s a good chance that she’s hearing things, or convincing herself that he’s there so she doesn’t have to walk in the cold over to his place later to apologize. 

“Just let me talk to her, Elle.” Nope, definitely him. She sits up so fast that her head spins little. She doesn't care. He’s at her fucking door and oh my god does she deserve any of the people in her life? No, the answer is no. 

It’s nine in the morning the day after their big fight and he’s here to… fuck, maybe he’s here to officially end it. Maybe this is Harry breaking up with her. Maybe he has a box of her things, and maybe she’s going to have to quit _ Bon Appetit. _

She really hopes he’s not.

“She’s not even awake yet, Harry.” The floor is very cold. Her slippers are at his place. She really did do this to herself.

"I'll wait." He sounds determined and Allie is really starting to think about crying all over again because, fuck, she was the one who messed up and she’s the one who should be out on his doorstep begging to talk to him. 

He beat her to it. The audacity.

"Harry..."

"I just need to talk to her, alright?" Now he sounds a little desperate. He doesn’t sound like someone who’s about to break her heart. Which is good. She’s not sure if she can handle much more crying.

Allie stands on the way too cold hardwood floor and looks towards the door, imagining him, hair all over the place, tired. She's still tired. And then suddenly, quite possibly because she’s stupid and tired and wanting to see if it’s really him, she's going towards it, nudging Elle away with a half shrug.

"Hey Harry."

Something much like relief flashes across his face. His eyes light up just a little. She gets shaky. It was one night, one fight, and fuck, she missed him. "I'm sorry. I should've told you."

She pushes them out into the hallway, shutting the door behind her. "I just..." She leans against the wall, arms crossed. She thinks that her hair is one big knot, not that that’s important right now. He takes a step towards her. "I want to be a part of your life, someone you factor into these decisions, not some afterthought who doesn't even get to hear the news straight from you."

"Allie--"

"And I was wrong trying to pretend nothing was changing and I fucked up and I played the best friend card twice which isn’t surprising but also not okay, and I hope it’s not too late because I don't know if just friends is enough anymore. You were right; this is starting to feel a lot more personal than just two friends who sleep together."

He's right there, standing close enough that she has to tilt her head back to look him in the eyes.

"And I think I live at your place," she says quietly, nervously, as though saying it is the final nail in the coffin of everything changing. Only, then there's a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth; and then hers too. "Did you know that?"

"Yeah." She sighs, soft and heavy. Of course that asshole knew. God, is she really that oblivious? 

Doesn’t matter. Allie laughs, laughs while staring up at him, laughs while kissing him, laughs while wondering if she's the last one to realize any of this. 

She is. That doesn’t matter much anymore either.

  
  


* * *

  
  


They drink the turkish coffee, with it’s foam and sweetness and tiny bitter tinge at the very end, at her kitchen island. Elle tells them that they’re _ both idiots. _ Neither disagree. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


**Six Months Later**

  
  


* * *

  
  


**Harry and Allie Make Bread Part one: “Is it supposed to look like that?” | Bon Appetit**

_ Bon Appetit • 2.5M view • 3 days ago _

  
  


Allie pulls a bowl full of flour closer to her. Her apron strings aren’t tied but it looks like she thinks they are. Everyone behind the camera is waiting for a certain someone to come up and tie them. “Harry forces me to bake bread in the kitchen so that it’ll smell good.”

Harry walks into the shot. “It was one time, Pressman.”

Allie turns to him and makes some sort of mocking face. He grins back and moves to tie her apron strings. Someone behind the camera, most likely Becca, snorts.

“I feel like I’m being used for my bread baking abilities. Is that the only reason why you want to hang out with me?” Allie jokes. They are yet to begin the recipe. No one tells them off for wasting time. 

Harry grins at her, completely ignoring the camera. “Definitely not the only reason why I want to hang out with you.”

“Oh yeah? What’s the reason?”

“I think you know the reason, Pressman.”

Allie turns to face the camera. She very dramatically rolls her eyes. “Today we’re baking bread.”

Harry moves to focus on the camera too. “It’ll make your kitchen smell good.

  
  


> **Lolquarentine** 1 day ago
> 
> the kitchen. imagine this: allie and harry baking bread in their kitchen like a fucking couple
> 
> **View 1 reply v**
> 
>   
  

> 
> **iwoulddieforhallie **2 days ago
> 
> they really do be living together doe
> 
> **View 3 replies v**
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>   
  

> 
> **2020themovie** 2 days ago
> 
> I would make allie pressman bake bread in my kitchen to make it smell nice too. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


They take the subway to work. It’s early, too early and she’s nearly asleep beside him, leaning on his shoulder. She almost spills her coffee. Harry laughs at her. It is still too early.

They had to tell HR about their relationship because that’s the courteous and professional thing to do. Allie writes an email that’s a bit too long explaining their dynamic and how _ this won’t affect our work _ as though she hadn’t been strongly considering quitting if Harry broke up with her. Harry proofreads the email because he was an english major in college. Otherwise, she would’ve had Helena read it over for her. 

Allie thinks it’s a good thing that they don’t work for _ Buzzfeed _ because _ Bon Appetit _ does not once ask to monetize their relationship. At least not directly. They definitely don’t forbid Allie and Harry from filming together or even attempt to edit out any flirting, but that’s just the same as before so it doesn’t really count. 

“I can’t believe you two thought everyone didn’t know,” Helena says to them when they come out and say _ hey, we’re dating. _

And Grizz is right there too, nodding his head in agreement with Helena. “You guys are not subtle at all.”

Harry scoffs. “Well I mean-”

“Hawaii. Thanksgiving. The fact that you two would walk in here together every morning and that you also never stop flirting,” Grizz lists.

Bean, somewhere across the room shouts, “I fucking called it.” Allie swears that her and Harry were the last to admit that something was going on between them. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


They make two different batches of chocolate chip cookies because they still can’t agree on who's cookie is better. Harry sets up three polling locations to _ reduce voter suppression. _ Allie tells him not to joke about that because Cassandra might kill him.

His rooftop-- no, their, their rooftop because they live together now and are in a well defined and healthy relationship instead of some friends with benefits type deal-- is filled with people. The whole dinner party is completely random, which is exactly how Harry likes to host them. He likes to have dinner parties for absolutely no reason. And it’s on his roof, because he also likes to show off that he has roof access. God, that _ they _ have roof access.

Is she going to become one of those people who shows off the fact that they have roof access?

Doesn’t matter. Nope. It does not matter who she becomes in the future because she lives in the now and the now has a full spread of food made by very talented chefs. At least Harry had the sense to force everyone to bring a dish. She’s pretty sure Grizz made macaroni and cheese.

“Do you think there’s anyway for us to keep the leftovers?” Harry asks and, god, they really do be on the same wavelength. It’s like he’s in her head. Did he see her eyeing the mac n cheese, or was it the second slice of chocolate cake that gave her away? 

“We could sneak it inside and if anybody asks just tell them that it fell off the roof,” she offers and he nods. 

“Genius idea, Pressman.”

She looks around the roof, spots Helena with her husband Luke next to the ricotta dumplings Harry always makes, Sam and Grizz sitting on some outdoor chairs talking with Becca and Kelly, Will standing with Bean and Jason and Gwen. And she spots Cassandra eating a chocolate chip cookie. Allie calls her over.

“Who’d you vote for, cookie A or cookie B?” Allie asks. Her and Harry had fought over who’d get to be cookie A and who’d get to be cookie B which is the stupidest thing to fight about. They had to flip a coin to decide. She’s cookie A which was the goal, but, again, the stupidest thing to fight about. 

She thinks they might be a bit too competitive.

“B,” Cassandra answers, taking the last bite of the cookie. “I liked the texture better, and the other one was a little too sweet.”

Allie gasps. That was not the right answer. 

And Harry turns to her, nudges her with his elbow and says, “I told you that an extra thirty seconds in the oven would make a difference.”

Allie makes a face at him before focusing on her sister. “How could you, Cass,” she jokes, and Cassandra shrugs. It takes all the restrain Allie has to not remind her sister of the time she burned water.

“She can’t help that she has working tastebuds, Allie,” Harry says, and she strongly considers packing up her stuff and moving back in with Elle. Just kidding. Elle doesn’t have roof access.

“I’m glad you two worked out,” Cassandra says, and Allie forgets for a second about her sister's betrayal.

Harry wraps an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side. She leans in a little closer. “Me too.” 

Later, after everyone’s left and they’re cleaning up, Harry kisses her while they do the dishes. She’s drying plates as he finishes washing cups, and it’s so extremely reminiscent of how everything started that it makes her smile, wide and bright. It’s just a little crazy to think about how far they’ve come. 

“I love you,” Allie says softly because it feels like something that’s supposed to be soft. “You know that, right?” And she wonders if she’s told him that before, because she’s known it for a little while now, probably since the very beginning, at least in some way. 

And he grins at her. “I love you too.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


**Grizz Makes Kimchi | It’s Alive | Bon Appetit**

_ Bon Appetit • 4.5M view • 23 hours ago _

  
  


For the first ten seconds of the video, the camera is focused on a jar of kimchi. Grizz is slightly out of focus in the background. 

Harry and Allie are in the unfocused background too. They’re standing close near the door. They look like they’re talking, maybe about something serious. It’s blurry, but it looks like Harry's hand is resting against her cheek. It looks like, for a half a second, his lips are pressed against her’s. 

The camera shifts and the focus settles on Grizz. He turns around and spots them, rolls his eyes. “PDA. Might have to report them to HR.” Behind the camera, Becca can be heard laughing. 

“Forget about hallie,” Grizz says, pushing the jar closer to the camera. “Let’s make some kimchi.”

  
  


> **bonappletitbitch **20 hours ago
> 
> So they’re like a _ real _real thing. Woah. They like, kiss and shit. Woah. Grizz is like, let’s give the people what they want. Thanks.
> 
> **View 3 replies v**
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> 
> **guessibetter** 18 hours ago
> 
> THEY DID NOT JUST KISS WTF
> 
> **View 5 replies v**
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>   
  

> 
> **you’reastar** 22 hours ago
> 
> hi grizz i can’t just “forget about hallie”
> 
> **View 2 replies v**

  
  


* * *

  
  


**HarryBingham posted a picture**

  
  


**HarryBingham** _happy to have you, pressman_

  
  


Comments:

  
  
**allie.pressman:** happy to have you too

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not super proud of this, but also very happy that it's over. i think some part of me i had fun with this. maybe. 
> 
> i might go back and re-do bits of this one day until i'm fully happy with it. who knows. 
> 
> (and follow me on [tumblr](https://in-my-head-i-do-everything-right.tumblr.com/) for fic updates and other little things. lots of stuff should be coming out soon with this recent influx of free time!)

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed! pls tell me what you think! and hmu on [tumblr](https://in-my-head-i-do-everything-right.tumblr.com/) for fun little fic sneak peaks or just to talk about the society!


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